Misery and Grief
by strychix
Summary: When Draco is raped by Death Eaters, he runs away and finds himself at Number 12 Grimmauld Place without knowing who lives there, Harry decides it's his mission to save the blonde. From the Death Eaters, from the Griffendors, and from Draco himself.
1. Faux Silence

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

One thing was for sure, even if someone heard, no one was listening. He was screaming incessently but it was to no avail. No one came to his rescue as they dragged him along in the woods. The disgusting digits of hooded heads touched him and ripped his clothing. Some were bare, some were gloved, and perhaps the worst part was the back of his mind, guessing who was who. And when his father touched him, no, grabbed at him, it was the first time that night that a cold shiver ran up his spine. The groping and the caressing in varying degrees burnt him, everything was hot as fire but heavy like granite.

And despite his pain, his hatred, and his screams, sooner or later these men touched him elsewhere, doing more than just greedily grabbing his hair or raking their fingers over his pale body, his body responded against his will. Blindfolded and scared, humiliated and defenseless, when they pinched his nipples, stroked his length, and rubbed their horrible fingers against his anus, he had no choice in what his body did. And his shaft twitched at first before it steadily grew to it's full length. He could hear the chuckling of these awful men as his own body betrayed him. And to mock him further, they buried deeper into him with their fingers, searing him. The pinched at him harder, making his cries less of a plea and more of a gutteral shriek. He started to kick harder then, started to really squirm. They loved it.

He could feel the presence of the first man aligning up against him, and for a moment he wondered why they didn't use magic, before the person pressed into him. It seemed to split him in two, though it wasn't instantaneous it hurt as if being downright rammed into. And perhaps the person had been trying to ram into him but found the walls of his cavity to be too unforgiving. For a moment, the boy grunted, tears making their way past his blindfold, before beginning to shake. Another man turned his head forcefully and thrust into his mouth recklessly, burrowing into the young man's throat. Then a man began biting him. Another penis rubbed across his cheek from behind. He didn't know how many of them there were but he knew that there were plenty more. His cock stayed hard but it seemed to agree with him that he wasn't in fact horny, not that the men raping him would know that.

He could feel the man shudder for a moment then hot acid pouring into him and he knew that he had just been spilled into. The man left him only to be replaced by another wretched human being, who thrusted into him painfully. The boy screamed over the cock firmly placed into his throat, in which the intruder there seemed to enjoy and therefore made him gag on his own cum. He, too, was replaced. Passed around and used, that's what was happening. And in the back of his mind, something clicked and went numb.

His father had betrayed him, and was now in the process of ruining his body. Filthy. And here he was, enjoying it, or at least his body seemed to be. He went limp entirely, except for that one part that was refusing to listen to him. After this, would they kill him? His mind wandered as they abused him, the pain only barely reaching his senses now. After this, he had no where to go. No place to turn. He'd die, or he'd be used again. Here he was, without a wand and wondering if he would ever be allowed it again. If he lived past tonight, that is.

Another person thrust into his entrance, much larger this time. Though he wasn't completely there, he could hear himself whine over the dick thrusting into his face. Then there was a warm sensation over his own organ, which woke him up from his numb background noise. All the pain, the blood, the suffering returned just in time for him to scream, and in turn choke on a large amount of rancid fluid in his mouth. He kicked, and he punched with all his might, knocking people down and being dropped onto the filty ground. He grabbed his blindfold and tore it off, seeing cloaked men with varying amounts of skin showing through. The death eater's masks hiding their faces didn't hide their identities from him. He gained his footing, thrusting toward the dark forest not illuminated by wands.

Everything felt disconnected. His knees on his thin legs seemed to bend in awkard ways as he ran, his hips seemed heavy, and tears flowed relentlessly out of his grey eyes, despite that it was really against his better health, hindering his view. They would be after him soon, with wands, ready to kill. He tripped twice and each time it seemed harder to get up, wanting to give up.

"Draco." A voice said calmly from beside him as he ran past. He spun around, not really sure what he was planning on doing. It was a dark figure and he immediately knew it was Snape. He was clothed, and Draco didn't remember seeing him as he fled the scene, but that didn't stop him from backing up. Proffessor Snape, whether he was a teacher or not, whether he had actually gotten a chance to rape him, was still a death eater and ultimately the enemy. Strange how his view had been turned upside down in one night. Snape took one long stride towards him, and he took two quick paces back.

It was then that Draco wished he could disappear. And in that moment, he remembered that he could apparate. But as he quickly thought of places, he couldn't think of a place he could go that was safe to him. In that moment, Snape pointed his wand towards him and images flew threw his head. It wasn't a place he had ever seen. He closed his eyes and focused on it, willing himself there. A loud sound trailed behind him, followed by a slight popping sound as he heavily ended up where he had envisioned. It was in that moment that he realized that it was likely Snape had inflicted those thoughts into his mind, and this was not a safe place. However, he quickly entered the door when he heard footsteps walking down the street behind him. He was naked and filthy and crying, and his first reaction was to hide.

So now he stood, in a hallway. It was warm, and for the moment he was safe. It was true, he could have been lead here, he certainly didn't remember this place on his own, but his mind was fading as he slowly kneeled to the ground, laying. The pale boy was vaguely aware he was bleeding in a few spots as he curled up into a ball, shivering despite the heat. He wiped away the tears from one eye with his arm before deciding it was worthless, and passing out with that very same hand clinging to the carpet. 


	2. An Almost Corpse

Harry was a lot of things, especially in the eyes of others. Most of those things he did not want to be but no one really has a choice in those type of matters. However, there was certainly one thing that Harry Potter was not.

Harry was not a trusting sort of individual.

His mother and father had been betrayed, and therefore killed. He grew up with a muggle cousin that would pull tricks on him, and an aunt and uncle that would agree with the child that was ruining his life. When he was eleven he found out that a world he didn't know existed, in fact existed, and he was famous within it. Since he went to Hogwarts, he learned that Voldemort was after him and teacher after teacher ended up being something they are not. Quirrell was attached to Voldemort himself, Lockhart was a big fake, Lupin was a werewolf, Moody wasn't even Moody but someone working for his enemy. The supposed betrayer of his parents was not but a loving godfather, and a pet rat turned out to be the true betrayer all along. The very government that owed him for the safety of the people from Lord Voldemort, even if temporarily, betrayed him and punished him when he said that the dark lord had returned. His entire life had been lie after lie, unexpected news after miserable unexpected news.

Indeed, Harry James Potter had a very difficult time just taking things for what they seemed.

So when the black haired boy opened his door to find the very broken and very naked Draco Malfoy in his hallway, where no one should be that had never been here before, it was no wonder that his first instinct was to pull out his wand and spin around a few times. After deciding no one was about to jump him, it was then that he dared to take some steps toward the boy, circling him with the wand pointing directly at him the entire time. Ready for the young Death Eater in the making to attack at any time, he studied the situation.

No wand visible, both hands out where he could see them. It was only then that Harry allowed pity to wash over him. He was not yet ready not take down his paranoia, various things didn't fit. After all, it was visible this entire time that Draco was a Death Eater in the making. Groaning at his own weakness, he knelt to one knee, shakily striking his hand out to check the pulse of the boy. Faint, but Harry had known he was alive by the light raspy breathing. No one was with him now, and he wasn't expecting anyone for many hours.

What was he to do? Draco had already gotten there was no way that he could possibly change that. Harry glanced over the boy, closer now, and saw some sort of dried white clear stuff plastered to him. With that, Harry jumped back, his back hitting the wall quite forcefully with a dull thud. Everything about the situation now seemed painfully obvious. Even Snape getting him here somehow seemed to make perfect sense. And while he didn't let his guard down entirely, Harry was sold that he had to help the blonde. Sighing with self disappointment, he pulled Draco up, who stayed limp with dead weight and was apparently unconscious entirely, and threw him over his shoulder, magic somehow skipped over in his mind.

Draco was light, weighing no more than Hermione who was quite a bit shorter than him. Harry, however, only carried him to the first floor and into the bedroom. Harry tried to lower him gently, but despite the pale boy's weight being less than average, his height made lowering him awkard and the landing wasn't as soft as Harry had hoped. Draco didn't seem to notice, however, and Harry was now unsure what to do. There was no question that no matter what he did at this point, it would be either awkward or irresponsible.

Harry pulled out his wand. "Scourgify" he cast and it seemed to clean off Draco. Harry, however, didn't know what to do about the scratches and bruises. They were minor, and though perhaps Draco had lost a bit of blood, as evident from the carpet in the hall, nothing seemed to be any real damage. He was relieved, unsure if he actually cared for the well being of the childhood rival or grateful that it meant he didn't have to touch him again. Now that he was safe and clean, he was wondering if he should bandage the more major of the injuries or not, even though they had stopped bleeding it seemed like they should be treated. However, this was Draco, and he was sure that the blonde wouldn't respond well to knowing he had been touched all over the place while he was asleep, especially given what had happened what Harry assumed to be the night before.

Harry couldn't help but feel confused, trying to not stare at Draco but at the same time trying to decide what he should do through analyzing the boy. Draco was supposed to be his enemy. Granted, not to the extent of Voldemort, or really most of his enemies, but Draco had been a horrible person all along. There was something adamantly wrong with helping him like this and yet something even worse with refusing to save him. So, against his better judgement, as if one choice could be any better than the other in this situation, he covered the boy with the comforter, left out some clothes on a chair next to the bed, and went downstairs. The fact of the matter is as it was right now, there was certainly no way he could dress the boy and bandage the boy. He'd simply have to wake up his fellow schoolmate later and help him then. After all, he was Harry Potter, and that was most likely the last person that Draco would want to see him like this. Harry was not known for his empathy but anyone could figure that much out.

"Damn Malfoy, showing up at my house unconscious. Couldn't help but make my life harder, could he." He kicked something before putting his palm to his forehead and leaning against the wall. His head was reeling. Why was it that nothing in his life would stay still for more than a moment? It seemed like every turn, every chance, something went in a crazy, impossible direction. Running a hand lazily through his messy hair, he considered who to owl about all this but no one came to mind. Everyone was busy, everyone would misunderstand, and everyone was even more paranoid than he was. They'd worry about him more than the one that needed the help. He was starting to understand how Sirius felt, stuck in one place and without anyone to turn to without feeling guilty. And so it was that he contacted no one about this and instead went to the kitchen to make something for the Slytherin to eat before trying to wake him up.

And Harry knew, without his scar to tell him so, that this was going to be a disaster. The oncoming pain and frustration hovered over him like a cloud.

--

I was so inspired by the mass amount of adds and favorites and the few reviews I got that I wrote this as soon as I had time on the computer, and the next chapter will be up before the night ends. Tonight has nothing but dedication to Harry Potter movies and fics!


	3. Trust Your Enemy

The first thing he noticed was the presence of a blanket. Draco clinged to it for a moment before he even opened his eyes. Analyzing himself, he felt that his body felt broken, however the searing pain seemed to be missing. The blonde was also aware that he was still naked. Sighing momentarily, he opened his eyes to find that he had never been here before. It was a dusty sort of place that made him cringe out of habit of scorning everything that wasn't to the Malfoy standard. Clothes were laid out for him, he noticed, but they weren't really on his mind. There had to be only one outcome here, and that was that he had been sent to one of the homes of the Death Eaters. As if Snape would have let him go so easily. His mind ticked with panic as he got up, feeling dizzy almost immediately as he did.

His knees bucked beneath him and he fell to the ground, weeping uncontrollably. So this was it, they'd keep him to abuse over and over again. He wouldn't be allowed his wand, it was too dangerous. What would become of him? Everything in his life had been crushed, and he had been tarnished. Though his skin seemed clean now, he felt disgusting. He would never be clean again, he was ruined. Draco could not help but be utterly devestated. Up until now his troubles have been few and far between. He was wealthy, he was proud, and he had power. The only real issue until now had been the ever so blessed Harry Potter. Now, though, his life was in ruins and everything he had was no more, and the only thing he now had to look forward to was another segment like last night. It was so hopeless and he was so powerless. Tears flowed endlessly as he got up and looked around.

"Th-th-they can't take one thing from me..." He said as he went to the desk and rummaged inside it. Finding a pair of scissors, he opened them and stared wildly at the blades. In a moment he had one pressed firmly against his wrist. He could end it now, take one thing from him. Himself. Malfoy closed his eyes, breathing deeply, sure he could do this, he just needed a moment.

"Ahem." A voice from behind him caused him to spin around, making him fall with a dizzy head. The scissors flew elsewhere in the movement and Draco was left looking up at the intruder. Something wasn't right here. "I rather hoped you would get dressed if you woke up." No, no. The person above him, staring at him with emerald eyes peeking from a mess of dark hair and behind glimmering glasses couldn't be who he thought it was. He was seeing things. The figment of his imagination placed a platter on the dresser and stared at it for a moment before sighing and turning to face him again. Draco crawled backwards, away from him. This simply couldn't he happening. Harry then took a step back then, as if he got the hint. "Listen-"

"What are you doing here?!" Draco screamed, making Harry jump slightly. Draco's knees lifted to his chest as he leaned back against the drawers of the desk. "How-!"

"I live here." That seemed to shut Draco up. "I live here and I open my door this morning to find what seemed to be a corpse in my hallway. This is a safeguarded house, no one should have been in my hallway. Much less the son of a death eater, who happens to be battered and naked. So really, the question is what are YOU doing here?" Rolling his eyes for a moment, he pulled the blanket off the bed and threw it towards Draco. "However, I think I have a pretty good idea of what probably happened, so I thought I would be polite and not ask." He watched as Draco covered himself properly.

Draco clinged to the blanket, staring intently at his childhood rival with disbelief. "You live here? Why does Snape know where you live?!"

Harry opened his mouth for a moment before closing it, not really sure how to answer. "I don't think I can tell you..." He scratched his head and frowned. "I can tell you that it's not really my choice that he knows where I live and that he had been to this house multiple times before it belonged to me."

Draco didn't know what to think anymore, his head hurt. "Sn- Snape is a death eater."

Things were getting awkward for Harry. He couldn't very well tell the son of Lucius Malfoy that this was in fact the hideout for the Order of the Phoenix. That Snape is a spy. He rubbed his scar with aggrevation. "I know... And I don't particularly like him knowing where I live but I haven't died yet. This place is safe, even if there's a few rough edges. He stepped towards Draco slowly, the pale boy fearfully trying to wriggle away. "Malfoy," another step "you've had the priviledge of calling me a lot of things. And I know you dislike me. However, you nor anyone has thought me suicidal. No one dreams that much, it'd be just too easy for all the people who hate me. And it would steal Voldemort's chance of... watching the light disappear from my eyes." He kneeled on one knee and stared at the boy for a moment. "I know it's painful, and while I've never experienced anything like what you have, you cannot deny I've had my share of pain and suffering. You're safe now so there's no reason to kill yourself." Harry left his place in front of Draco and walked over to where the scissors were and picked them up. He stared at them for a moment before speaking once more. "You don't have to like me, I suppose, but I'll ask you to trust me. And I'll ask that you stay here..."

Malfoy couldn't help but glare at the boy who wasn't even looking at him now. As if he had anywhere else to go, and what gave Harry Potter the right to tell him what to do? Now his mind seemed to split. It was his habit to have done the direct opposite of what Potter had said or wanted before, however right now it was that he had no other option. Did he really want to kill himself, now that he wasn't trapped in the claws of Voldemort's underlings? Could he really trust Potter? Despite the fact that it was the last thing he wanted to do right noow, the blonde began to cry. He burrowed himself into the blanket. Suddenly, there was an awkward tension in the air and Draco knew that Harry knew he was crying, and also knew that the dark haired boy had no idea what to do about it. And despite this, or perhaps because of it, the boy cried harder, sobs echoing in the dingy room. The blonde could feel Harry look at him, and move towards him, before moving back away slowly and inching out of the room.

The door closed lightly and Draco was left to himself, allowing himself to bawl harder into the blanket. Harry stood in the hallway, listening and feeling just as helpless as the man inside the room. 


	4. Breaking the Habit

I wrote this and most of the next chapter before reading reviews that I will answer here. Yes, Harry should be more caring towards Draco and tell someone who can help properly, but I don't really think it is in his nature to do so. Growing up he had no one to turn to and had to deal with everything by himself. That is a very hard habit to break, and you see it multiple times in the books (and movies) that he almost always tries to refuse help, even when he knows he needs it.

Furthermore, he should be kinder to Draco given Draco's situation. However, though he's had to deal with many things, he's never had to deal with rape victims before. Much less snotty ones that attempted to get his friends fired, tried to get him expelled, and has preaching his enemies antics all together. I'm hoping that I'm portraying him right in portraying him trying to be kind to Draco, but really, really unsure what to do. Harry seems the type to get frustrated easily, to me.

Anyways, enough of my psychological delving into the boy who lived's head. Back to the show!

--

It was quite awhile before Draco raised himself off of the ground. Tears streaked his cheeks as he went to the mirror over the dresser. He wiped away the mess on his face before looking down at the food left out for him. It seemed to be a stew of some sort. He turned away from it quickly, his stomach not really wanting to follow him. He winced his way, pain eating at him with each step, to the clothes folded on a chair for him. While he really felt he could use a shower lasting for the greater portion of a millenia, he didn't exactly like the idea of Harry Potter seeing him naked as much as he had, much less more. He blushed much to his dismay.

So he got dressed into the indigo long sleeved v-neck and white dress pants, skipping the boxers as he wasn't sure who they had belonged to and he couldn't think of anyone that would have left them here that he would particularly want to share underwear with. Actually, he didn't want to share underwear with anyone. He looked in the mirror again and wondered why Harry would have clothes like this, considering it didn't seem to be the casual he had seen Harry wear in Diagon Alley or earlier. Much more of a tee and jeans type, with perhaps a track jacket. He snarled at his own ability to recognize what Harry's style would be.

He padded his way back to the food, not particularly wanting to admit that he wanted to eat the food. Reluctantly he stabbed at a potato and stuck it into his mouth. He almost flinched as it wasn't up to his standards of quality, but looking around he reminded himself that he wasn't in Malfoy Manor anymore. This was made obvious by the habitat he was currently in. Everything was filthy and Draco wondered how someone as renowned as Harry Potter could live there, even if he didn't particularly like the owner of the home. He took the bowl of stew into his hand and padded across the room. On closer inspection, it became obvious that the items themselves were very expensive and rich with heritage. Draco picked up a hand mirror and flipped it in his hand. "Ah, the Black family crest." It was there that his mind got stuck, unsure if he should be sickened by or proud of his beliefs until now and of his lineage. Almost dropping the bowl, he had a look of pure terror on his face as he remembered the adults whom he had looked up to and raised to respect felt him up and intruded his body. Shaking, he put down the bowl as gently as he could, letting it thud as it clapped against surface of the desk. The blond hair met pale hands as he held his head tightly. Stumbling haphazardly, he found himself at the door. It broke his concentration from his own horrible thoughts and he was grateful for it. Taking the knob, he turned and was let into a hallway close to a staircase. He fumbled down the staircase, holding the to railing. When he made his way to the ground floor, he was caught off guard as curtains flew back with a screech, in which he responded by aptly screaming and jumping what felt like ten feet in the air.

"Oh, did I scare you dear? I'm so sorry." The portrait said to him gently, with a raspy crooked voice. "It's so nice to see a real boy with such good qualities." She seemed to be cooing at him and he was strangely mesmerized. "A boy of pure blood, a boy of the Malfoy family. You must be related to our beloved neice, Cissy. And he married such a wonderful man, too." Something cracked in Draco's very being then.

"SHUT UP!"

"Hmm? Are you a blood traitor then, like the rest of them?" She said, her face suddenly dark and her voice full of scorn.

"NEVER!"

"Then what's the issue? You must hold your family values high and forsake all those blood traitors and mudbloods! How dare they enter my home? Filth! Pureblood faith is the only way to go! Don't you agree, dear?" Draco stared at her, mortified. How was he supposed to answer if he didn't know? However, his concentration was broken by the shutting of the curtains.

"She seems to like you." Harry said. "Usually she's screaming at the top of her lungs and screaming obscenities, it's really quite frightful." It seemed he tried to smile for a moment but it only waned away just as soon. "You probably would agree with everything she says but she gets annoying all the same." He turned to face Draco, who stepped back lightly. "I'm glad to see you're wearing clothes. They suit you." They both seemed to think the same thing in that moment, and that was that it was pathetic that Harry was resorting to small talk but at the same time they didn't know what else to say to each other. They only knew how to disagree and somehow talking about safe subjects seemed so very unnatural.

Draco offered a solution. "You're house is filthy." He said this, however, with the ever present smirk absent from his lips, the tinge of smugness also gone. It wasn't the same, but Harry would play along. The boy wearing glasses could see the discomfort in Draco's stance. "You should really get someone to clean it up, it's an absolute sty."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Of course not, I've never cleaned once in your life."

"And I've lived in a broom cupboard for over half of mine. A little dust and a few spiders don't bother me enough to clean it up."

They stared at eachother and for a moment Draco lost himself, forgetting the ache across his body and the confusion in his head. Only a moment. Then it was gone. "Don't be ridiculous, like I'd start scrubbing the floor for someone like you, Potter."

"Oh? Who would you scrub the floor for, then?" A smile. All it took was a smile and Draco had completely gotten lost and forgotten about everything. However, it was short lived as there was a knock on the door. Draco jumped behind Harry without meaning to and promptly cursed himself for doing so. The blonde stared at the door as Harry went to open it. Both of them, in that moment, were very unsure. Draco wanted to hide and it would be a lie if Harry didn't kind of want to hide Draco as well. This moment had finally come where he'd have to show that Draco was now being housed in his home, and while some would take it better than others, no one would take it well.. Harry grabbed the door handle and opened the door, half tempted to close his eyes. And part of him wished he had just not answered the door after it opened. Of all the people he didn't want to come in right now, this was probably the worst. Then again, he would probably have thought that for anyone who would have walked in. However, there was no questioning that this was a very bad thing, especially when Ronald Weasley just walked in.

"It's been awhile, so I thought I'd stop by. You'd think I'd practically live here with you by now, you must get lonely all by your-" The redhead blinked and stepped back, knocking into Harry a bit. "Hey Harry? Why is the git here?"


	5. Dust and Distrust

"About that..." Harry looked at Draco, who didn't seem to know how to settle his face. Between anger, aggravation, and shock, and fear. When it came down to it, what was a reasonable explanation for this? The truth left Draco to open for humiliation, and he could see that Draco was looking at him. Was there pleading in his eyes. "He's in a bit of a bind and I'm helping him out." The only thing Harry could manage was look at Draco with a look of 'it's the best I could do'. However, Ron span at him, almost hitting the dark haired boy.

"You're helping him? Why? Can't he go and tell daddy and daddy will fix everything?" Both Harry and Draco visibly flinched. "He's got money and power and his pure blood ethics. He's scum who doesn't deserve your help, no matter what's going on with him!" Ron turned to Draco and stepped toward him intently. Draco started backing away for a few strides before outright spinning around and running up the stairs and into the guest room, the door slamming. "What?" The Weasley boy said, staring at the way Draco went.

Harry had to think was obvious that Draco wasn't really comfortable with people knowing he had been raped. And he wanted to respect that but at the same time he didn't want to leave his friend in the dark. "Listen, I know you have your prejudices, and he's still the same old Draco he's always been." Ron turned to him slowly, with an expression that seemed to say how desperately he needed an explanation for not only why he was here but the reason for Draco's skittish behavior. Harry gave a deep sigh. "I can't tell you what happened, I don't know all the details anyways. However, I think it's safe to say that he won't be relying on his father anymore. So-"

"No way!" Ron cut in, both to the brunette's comfort and dismay. "Now I'm sure it has to be a trick." With that the redhead ran up the stairs, Harry trailing along after him desperately trying to grab at him to make him stop. However, Ron had a much longer stride, and reached the top of the stairs five steps before Harry, who by the time he reached the top Ron was already barging into Draco's room. "Hey, Malfoy. What's your angle?" Harry could hear him call as he turned the corner and into the door. Ron was already standing in front of Malfoy. They were of almost equal height, as opposed to Harry who despite his tiny stature as a child had grown quite a bit but was still fairly standard in size. One had white blonde hair and the other flaming red. The biggest difference, however, was their stature; Draco was very thin and almost feminine, while Ron was lanky but muscular. So, despite their similar heights, Ron looked far more intimidating than Draco and Harry was somewhat impressed by Draco, who stood his ground, albeit visibly nervous. "So what? You're gonna whip out your wand and kill him as soon as he sleeps? Your father's orders I assume, or was it Voldemort himself?"

"Actually, Ron." Harry chimed in, not particularly liking the scowls he recieved from both of them as the looked his way. "He doesn't have his wand... It wasn't with him when he got here."

"Don't be daft, he has to have some sort of enchanted pocket where he stuck it." Ron looked him over suspiciously. "Is that Fred's clothing?"

Draco's face flushed pink as grey eyes glared at Harry, seemingly angry both that he was wearing a Weasley's clothing and being inspected by another Weasley. His head snapped back at the redhead, blush gone and anger taking over. "Stop checking me out, Weasley." Draco had to note, with an upset twinge, that his anger at Harry made him forget his problems while fighting with Ron made them all the more obvious. Begrudgingly, he continued "And furthermore, I don't need your permission to be anywhere." It was quite quickly that a wand was suddenly almost touching his nose. Draco smiled evilly. "Go ahead, just don't bother with curses or jinxes or spells. If you aim, Weasley, aim to kill."

Harry ran between them, pushing them apart. "Okay you two that's enough. Ron, Malfoy's staying. End of story. He doesn't have his wand and as such I think it's uncalled for to wave yours in front of his face." Harry watched as Ron lowered his wand. "And you," he turned toward Draco, but couldn't for the first time in his life think of anything that Draco had done wrong. He'd only spoken after being provoked quite a bit. However, he couldn't say nothing or else Ron would just throw another fit. "You've landed yourself in your childhood rival's house. Don't act surprised if no one believes you." He, however, said this much softer than his ridicule of Ron.

"Fine." The redhead crossed his arms. "I'm moving in, too."

"No you're not." The two others said synonymously. Harry looked at the blonde, who wasn't seeming to continue, before himself adding on to it. "I'm not going to babysit your bickering." Translated, it meant he was worried about fighting Draco as it was, but if Draco felt bullied it would make this all the more difficult. Also, there was the matter of Draco's skittishness, which reminded him that since the initial confrontation in the room, the Slytherin had inched back several feet.

"Fine." Ron said, glowering. "But I want proof that this isn't some trick." Harry glanced at Draco, who watched the slightly taller boy with an anxious look. "I don't trust you for a minute."

"Fine. If it's that big of a deal, I'll take up cleaning. This place is filthy. And since I have no wand, I'll have to do it the muggle way." He crossed his arm and cringed, as if repulsed by his own idea. "However, I won't do it for free." His icy grey gaze turned to the brunette. "I want a new wand."

The boy who lived, who was a bit shocked, thought it over. He saw multiple issues with this, if he was to look at Ron's side of things, which reminded him that his best friend was also staring at him. They wanted an answer, but if he got Draco a wand now it would be the same as if he had shown up with one. However, he could likely afford it. "Sounds alright to me. If you want a wand, you can work as long as you're here. We'll decide when we'll buy one later."

"I don't like things that are open ended, Potter." The slim man accused, light eyebrows furrowing.

"Forgive me but out of the two of us, who has a reputation of being a slippery, cunning git?"

"Fine then, Potter." A pale hand extended out to Harry for the first time since before the sorting ceremony many years ago. "It's a deal. But if you stiff me, you'll regret it."

Harry's hand twitched in place, unsure of itself, before taking Draco's. He noted how cold the Slytherin was to the touch and how smooth the skin was. Draco, on the other hand, realized just how tight of a grip Harry had.

"It's a deal."


	6. Squeaky Filth

Ron had finally left, after much complaining and reassuring that he thought that Draco should get his stuff and leave, to which both Draco and Harry asked themselves what stuff he was talking about. After the redhead left, it was such a lift off of both their shoulders that they both felt oddly comfortable in each others presence. Then came the part where it felt like someone should speak. Draco, instead, twirled around and went back up the stairs. "If I'm going to clean, I'm going to start with my room."

Harry, for some reason, had not expected the Slytherin to take initiative. It might be because Draco didn't seem to ever do anything himself over the years he had known him. The brunette shrugged and sat down, taking up a book. Meanwhile, the boy upstairs looked at the room he was supposed to be cleaning.

Saying it was one thing, doing it was another. He hadn't done one scrap of housework his entire life. It was always left up to Dobby or other servants, or at the very least done by magic. First he scavenged the room, looking at what needed to be done. He folded up the blanket, quite haphazardly, that had been on him when he had woken up. Once he set it down, however, he realized how badly folded it was, so he did the process again. It took him four times to get it decent, and only after very delicately matching the corners together. Whether he liked it or not, he was a perfectionist. This was going to be very difficult.

Then he realized, as he looked around the dust and grime, that he didn't know how to do any of these things to tidy up and clean. Surely he knew he was out of practice, having never done it, but he didn't know where to start, not even aware of what he needed to get the job done - much less where those supplies would be. So he dragged his feet as he went down the stairs, the slow movements reminding him of the ache in his body and the pain at his hip. Stepping in front of his once rival, he waited for the ebony haired man to look at him.

"I quit."

Green eyes stared up at him. "Amazing."

A scowl. "Stop that, Potter. I told you you weren't worth scrubbing floors before!" Icy grey eyes gleamed dangerously, however emerald eyes only shimmered back at him, angering him. "Is something funny?"

"You're only a foot away from me." Harry pointed out. "If I came within five feet of you before, you bounced away." Draco looked down with an incredulous expression. "And before today, the only times we were ever this close were in competitions or fights." And Draco knew it was true. Quidditch, bumping into halls. He growled at himself and backed away and was about to storm off angrily when Harry stood, placing down his book. "So I take it you have no idea what to do?"

Spot on but Draco wouldn't admit it, "No, you just don't deserve my time and effort."

"I didn't know you were doing this for me. Should I be flattered?" Draco glared at him, reminding himself that this was supposed to be for a wand. "Never mind the fact that I took you in with the kindness of my heart."

"My ass, you just have some sort of fetish for saving people." The blonde barked. Harry laughed then, and Draco's eyes went wide. The blonde quite simply had no clue as to how to react. It was almost a chuckle, deep and friendly, and it was something he supposed he had heard before now but never had been directed at him, even when opportunity came to laugh at Draco. The bouncing ferret incident came to mind but he couldn't remember Harry laughing at him. A smile, perhaps, but now that he thought about it, nothing Harry Potter ever did - even though they did not get along - was full of malice. Draco couldn't help but hate him more for it.

"Isn't it a bit concietedl, even for you, to think I'm saving you to fulfilling some sort of fetish by having you here?" He laughed again, Draco scowling but at the same time only more mesmerized by the man before him who, after a moment, began to move. The blonde jumped away as Harry passed him, twitching his head a bit as to tell Draco to come with him. The taller boy hesitated a moment before breathing in, as if to make himself larger, and trailed behind the black haired boy, slightly suspicious. It wasn't normal to laugh insults off, was it?

Harry flicked his wand, lighting up each room they came across, until they ended up at a closet. Opening the door with a loud creak, he started to pull out a large manner of cleaning supplies. Without a word, he stuffed a few rags, a broom, and a feather duster into Draco's arms before taking the mop, a bucket, and some more rags into his own and silently leaving the room, leaving the house guest the only option but to follow him. "Excuse me, what do you think you're doing. Why am I carrying these?"

The dark haired one didn't answer as he turned on the tap in the sink and filled the bucket, reaching over and pouring liquid soap into the warm water. "Since I'm such a nice guy, I'll help you clean the first time so you know what to do." The emerald eyes didn't have to move from the running water to know that steel eyes were stabbing him like daggers.

"I told you I didn't want to do it."

"Don't really care, Malfoy." Draco looked absolutely appalled. "If you want a wand, you're going to have to work for it. Of course, you have the option of not having a wand, I suppose, but then all your wizard supremacism would fly right out the window." A smirk touched Harry's lips. It was rare, and the boy it was aimed at couldn't help but feel as if their roles had reversed. Anger built up inside of him.

"What if I just steal yours, huh? Then where would you be?"

"At Ollivander's, buying a new one within minutes. I have that option, you know." A stab at Malfoy's heart as he remembered why he didn't have a wand, it's because he didn't have money. Because he couldn't go back to his parents. "Anyways, the only way you'll be able to snatch my wand off me is if you somehow convince me to get naked."

It was said in a backhand manner, Harry wasn't looking at him. No intensity whatsoever, but Malfoy's face went slightly pink. Maybe it was that he wasn't ready for anything sexual even jokingly, but the fact that his father was no longer in the forefront of his thoughts made him wonder if that was really the case. "D-don't dream too hard, Potter, you might hurt yourself. I'm not into guys that have a have as bad of luck as you do."

"You're right. How silly of me." Harry replied with a smile and a curious look in response to Draco's slight stutter. Picking the bucket out of the basin, he headed through the door the had just come through. "Of course you wouldn't be into guys like ME." Draco didn't see where this was going, Harry sounded a bit childish in the way he said it. "So, tell me Draco." The man stopped and turned to face the blonde, smiling joyously. "What kind of men ARE you into?"

With a temporary lack in elegance, Draco's squeaked. His ears went slightly red. But then it was gone. Like chalk erased off a chalkboard. A blank, cold stare. Then a smirk as Malfoy held tight to the things in his arms and walked past Harry. "Potter, it's quite unbecoming to assume others are like yourself." It was a deadpan tone, it meant that Draco wasn't playing anymore. Which left Harry quite unnerved, as he was only picking on Draco. He hadn't meant a word of it, and for the blonde to get so serious all of a sudden was strange.

Harry reached a decent answer for himself soon, that it must have been a twinge of what had happened to him, that the fact that men had penetrated him made him edgy about something like homosexual relations. And, if you were to take a look into the young Malfoy's mind, this was partially true. He wasn't gay, surely. However, his body had reacted against his will that night. Draco almost teared up but instead focused on each step of the stairs.

He truly did hate Harry Potter.


	7. Quick to Quit

A/N: I have a few other Draco/Harry fanfics I have thought up. I'm so excited.  
Also, I have decided that I am going to make chapters longer than previously. I don't know what is an acceptable chapter length in a fanfic, so excuse me if it's still too short/too long. On top of that, the name of this fanfic may change after a few more chapters. I'll tell you the chapter before it happens. Thanks.

--

Harry knew Draco was angry. He was perfectly aware that the blonde was bottling up his emotions and inwardly freaking out. The question was what to do about it. He tried to remind himself that quite frankly it wasn't his job to fix Draco, that providing a safe haven for his arch rival should be more than enough. There seemed a constant debate in his head when it came to the current Draco, a war between thoughts telling him to just stay out of it or to find a way to help the other young man. Fighting between them just seemed so normal, so comfortable in it's own way.

"Hey." The boy who lived began awkwardly. Draco didn't look at him, which said something given his usual jumpiness, so Harry decided not to continue. He wasn't really aware of what he was going to say anyways. Instead, the boy seemed to just grab a rag and submerge it in water before taking it to the desk and cleaning it off. The rag was dripping and splashing all over the place, almost reaching some ancient book. The shorter man walked over and picked up the book, saving it from a watery doom. Draco still didn't look his way, instead concentrating on the desk.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, and with one quick movement stealing the rag from Draco, allowing the water to drip on the floor. Draco's expression when he turned to look at his keeper was venomous and Harry realized in that moment that snakes were much easier to talk to than Slytherins. Not saying a word, he threw the book onto the bed and the rag to the bucket, where he wrung it out. After that he returned it to the blonde boy, who only shot daggers as he took it.

What probably made Draco the angriest was that Harry refused to get riled up. He seemed, though a bit meek about it, generally unaffected by his glare. So after taking the moist rag, he returned to his work. He had gotten the point that things in the way should be cleared and not rampaged over. And it was with relief and dismay that he felt Harry leave his size, getting his own rag and starting on the bookshelves, which he cleared off first and then wiped down, dusting out each book as well.

It left the blonde wondering why Harry Potter would do this manually instead of with magic. It was ridiculous to do it this way. However, he felt himself more and more compelled by the cleaning. Every nook and cranny became all that more obvious with the washing away of the obvious filth. Draco, perfectionist and elitist extraordinaire, found himself picking thoroughly at the room. It was almost unfortunate that Harry never seemed to leave anything behind in his cleaning, seeming to have practiced hands.

So, in silence, they moved throughout the first floor and he found himself more and more intrigued by cleaning. He hadn't even realized that he was no longer accompanied by Harry until that very same individual was standing next to him with dinner. Snapped out of his reverie, he unthinkingly smiled at the man offering him food. It was a small smile and it only lasted a moment, but Harry saw it and smiled back even after Draco had let his cold veneer run over him like gloss. The blonde took the food and sat at a drawing table while Harry left the room, leaving him to think by himself.

He hadn't noticed it at the time, but Draco now realized that during his cleaning he hadn't had any energy to think about the things that had happened to him. He suspiciously looked at the door that Harry had left through, wondering if that had been the intention. However, that was ridiculous. It was his idea to clean for a wand. But, then, he couldn't ignore that Harry hadn't let him quit. That it had originally him that said if he didn't like the grime, to clean it up. He chewed his food with thoughts of paranoia clouding his mind. For, like Harry, Draco was not a very trusting individual as well.

The blonde finally acknowledged his food, still hot, as he looked down at it. Roast chicken. Had the dark haired man cooked this himself? He had never really thought of the man's living situation, and certainly didn't know he lived alone in a grimy place without service. This was the Black house, so it made sense that it would go to Sirius Black's godson, though he disliked to admit it because otherwise it could have been his. In that case, it would also make sense if there was a house elf at one time, in fact there was sure to be, but Harry would have let him go. Just like he tricked his father into getting rid of Dobby. Malfoy squinted, unsure who's side to take now. He kicked the table in front of him, his plate shaking in reaction. He forced himself to calm down.

There was nothing to think about rationally, because it all had to do with beliefs. However, now he didn't know what to believe. His father's word wasn't pressed down his throat anymore, not constantly whispered into his ear. His gut reaction now, from the betrayal and molestation of his own father, was to disagree with everything his father had ever done, ever said, ever thought. However, it seemed his world had broken up into two worlds. His father and Harry Potter. Perhaps it was technically Voldemort and Harry Potter's lifestyles that was the line, but it was his father that influenced him, and it wasn't Harry Potter's beliefs that he had been against before but anything Harry himself because of who he was. Because the famous Harry Potter had turned down his offer of friendship. Because Harry Potter was famous. Because Harry Potter time after time became more famous, more loved, more powerful than Draco - which meant Draco envied him more than anyone else. Because Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter.

However, when he thought about it this way whilst sitting in a lonely house with Harry Potter, who's success seems to have only accomplished in achieving more and more upsetting news. Wasn't the fame always in reaction to some great plot against him? The money gained by losing something worth much more? He finished his food with this thought in his head. Still, it didn't change the fact that Harry and Draco hated each other. No, it just meant that they now had no reason to hate each other, not that they no longer did.

Damn his father for ruining his life and turning everything upside down.

And when he padded down the stairs with his platter and found himself face to face to his arch rival in the kitchen, it was with a new point of view. One that he was perfectly aware that he did not want. It was against his will that he saw the dark haired man, now washing his own dishes, in a new light. That light was no longer the limelight everyone else saw him in but the dim lights of an old house. The man before him was rash and angsty and infuriating. However, this man was also brave and loyal and willing to take in even his worst childhood pupil in a time of need.

This Gryffindor took his plate from him as he stood there speechless. However, Draco didn't leave. He kept standing there until Harry was finished and looking at him. As a Slytherin, as a Malfoy, as Draco, it was in him to be cowardly but the questions in his mind rose to the surface nonetheless. "Uh, so how long can I stay?"

Harry hadn't really thought about it but he supposed it made sense to ask that on the first day. Shrugging, he responded. "You don't really have anywhere else to go, do you? So as long as you need to, or want to, depending on your situation. I don't really know what you have available to you because I don't know exactly what happened." Draco's silvery eyes were flashing at him again, so he put his hands up. "I'm not asking you to talk about it, if you don't want to then it's none of my business. I'm just saying that it's up to you."

And while Draco wanted to be angry at Harry, he couldn't ignore that the open invitation to both stay as long as necessary and talk about it was was something he appreciated, though he didn't feel like taking the latter. Sensing his frustration, Harry sighed before speaking again. "Listen, we don't have to like each other. Despite our situation, we have a lot of history. I'll piss you off, you'll aggravate me. It's habit by now and if it's what you're comfortable with, I'm fine with that. I didn't exactly like waking up to find my rival naked and looking like a corpse, but at this point the unexpected is pretty much expected from me." He stepped closer to Draco, who jumped back. Smiling weakly, he walked past the boy who now only looked angry at himself.

"Hey!" Draco yelled, partially at himself, but Harry turned around none the less. "I..." He began, not really knowing where he was going with this. His thin eyebrows furrowed together as he looked down slightly. Suddenly his face shot up with a snobby "Hmph!" and he walked out of the kitchen and stormed up the stairs, leaving a very confused Harry Potter behind. Draco was unsure of what he was going to say, really, but was unnerved because he knew it had something to do with a thank you or a request to start again from scratch or an outright hug. Draco, unemotional and cold, afraid of letting people know he wasn't always in complete control and even more so afraid of embarrassing himself, could not bring himself to do these things. These were things that someone else would do, a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, but never ever a Slytherin.

Oh if the sorting hat was placed on his head now, what would it think?


	8. Unofficial Nap Time

It was several days before the silence was broken. Since the awkward moment in the kitchen, though neither really understood why it was as awkward as it was, their conversation had been kept to a minimum 'where can I find', 'food is ready', 'thank you', so on and so forth. While they both sort of missed the fighting they had the first day, neither of them wanted to really find out if the peace was because the other one hated them or because this was an offering of courtesy. Draco cleaned mercilessly every minute detail of the house until it was sparkling until he was on the top floor in a room that really looked abandoned. If he hadn't been on a mission, he would have ignored it - finding it unnecessary to clean what wasn't used, but he did anyways.

Harry spent most of his time reading and teaching himself things, finding himself more Hermione like in the process. However, he had taken on the cooking for what was now two. He had also at some point went away and bought Draco clothes of his own, with the help of that very same Hermione. Granger didn't ask what was going on, as she usually would, and that put Harry on edge. But, at the same time, he didn't want to talk about it anyways. She did, however, say that the Order would now be communicating by passing along information one by one for the time being, oh, and that Ron was very upset about the whole ordeal. Out of worry for Harry's safety, of course. "Sanity, you mean." He replied, only half joking.

And it was five days ago that a very bruised Slytherin had showed up at his doorstep, unconscious. His pains had gone away but they both knew that Draco was bottling himself up more and more. Things may be getting better on the outside but nothing had changed on the inside. Harry knew this by watching how diligently his house was being cleaned. His aunt used to clean like this, and though he didn't realize it at the time, the knowledge had come to his possession that this was her way of coping with stress. It never changed her however, and therefor Harry knew that Draco was going to need more than that. This was, however, a way for him to cope and delay the break down until Harry could figure out what the next step would be.

Alas, the black haired boy did not get the chance to figure out what the appropriate next step would be. No, it was on that day that the silent house burst out with a shrill cry. Though Harry had never heard it before, he knew it was Draco's. Not only because this would be the only thing to make sense, but because it distinctly felt like it belonged to Draco in Harry's heart. Forgetting he could apparate, Harry flew up the stairs faster than he could fly on a broom to the top floor, where a door was open and a light was on. Draco was pressed up against a wall, crying without shame and only with extreme fear and despair, in front of him was Lucius Malfoy, looking extremely happy for some reason.

It didn't take Harry more than a moment to find out what had happened and as such he went up to Lucius, who promptly turned into a dementor. Harry used a full blast of patronus to stuff the boggart back into the cabinet, blaming himself for never quite getting to know how to use riddikulus due to the nature of his fear. Snapping out of his own thoughts, he spun to meet a broken Draco, crumpled on the ground and tied into himself. The blonde was weeping openly, pulling at his own hair. Sobs and shouts burst from the boy in intervals as Harry slowly made his way to Draco, who flinched. Harry got on his knees a yard away from the boy, tucked into a sitting fetal position against the wall, his knees clasped to his ears seemingly. "Ma--- Draco..." He tried, feeling Malfoy would only stab because the boggart's identity held the same last name. The blonde didn't change in any way, so Harry moved closer. "Draco." A hand gently went towards the boy. Once it touched, however, it was batted away. Harry caught a glimpse of the boy's face, looking completely shattered and red and slick from tears. He tried again.

"DON'T! TOUCH! ME!" Draco screamed without looking up. Instead, he covered his face with his hands and sobbed harder.

"Why?" Harry couldn't help it, he had to ask. Draco looked up him and though a glare started to form, it stopped and instead he just looked completely helpless. For the first time in his life, Harry could read Draco's thoughts through his glittery eyes. The blonde simply didn't have an answer why Harry couldn't touch him, it wasn't Potter's fault. What the Gryffindor could not see, because there was no way that Harry would be able to conceive this, was that Draco was looking at the dark haired man for the first time as a savior. Potter had gotten rid of his father, was going to protect him. He didn't want to believe it, unsure of if the reason for not wanting to was because he didn't want to break what he was so used to or because he didn't want to put that much faith in anyone, but it now was the truth. The first truth he had ever found by himself. He watched in terror as the shorter, more muscular man stretched his arm out to him once more. Draco did not bat it away, but flinched once it touched all the same. Silver eyes still streamed large ribbons of tears but the sobs had stopped. His breathing had stopped. Harry hesitantly grabbed Malfoy's wrist, somehow unraveling the broken schoolmate from his tangle of himself. Against his own will, he pulled the dead weight of Draco into his arms, the boy's head into his chest. "I trust you Draco." The boy in his arms fidgeted for a moment, still not breathing, as if to say what that has to do with anything. "I trust you, or I wouldn't have let you stay. Wouldn't have let you go through my stuff under the pretense of cleaning." A large hand, much stronger than Draco's landed on the more feminine boy's head, completing the comforting engulfment that Draco couldn't remember ever feeling. He had never been held like this, not by his parents or even Pansy, who probably would have if she had ever saw a side to him that wasn't cold and domineering. "I trust you, Draco, so trust me."

It was then that Draco burst. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but all dams were broken as he clutched to Harry's shirt, sobbing into it with broken breaths. Not another word was spoken as Draco bawled for the first time since he was able to crawl in the arms of another human being. He knew it was wrong instinctively, to be cradled by Harry Potter and comforted by his warm arms, to take solace in someone whom he had been the most vile he could to. And for a moment he fidgeted, trying to decide if he should stop now and wall himself in again, but then he felt the man who only knew as Potter or Scarhead tighten his old on him. It could have been the closeness and body heat of another person, or it could have been the embarrassment of it all, or perhaps the blotchy heated skin from where his tears had come and gone over and over again that made him so warm. Eventually he fell into sleep, a sleep in which Harry knew was the first dreamless sleep he'd had since he woke up five days previous.

A napping Draco was heavy and Harry's legs were falling asleep. However, Draco seemed so content that he only allowed himself to very slowly switch his sitting position from on his knees to sitting on the ground with his legs on either side of the blonde. The slowness made the pain in his legs even more obvious. Harry could not help but wonder what Draco would do when he woke up in the arms of his arch rival. He'd remember it, to be sure, but he'd be embarrassed. There was no way that Draco Malfoy would wake up in his arms, smile and say thank you, and climb out and go back to the way everything was. However, it was also truth that Draco waking up not in Harry's arms would not make him forget the whole scenario but feel alone and if Harry didn't really care. In fact, Malfoy or not, he was sure any human would feel the same after what had happened.

So for hours he sat there, his back aching and his arms wanting to move. However he didn't, unsure of what to concentrate on other than the man slumbering peacefully in his arms. Draco had truly moved closer to him, curling up innocently into a sitting Harry who could only think of how different a sleeping Draco and an awake Draco really were. He was just happy that the Slytherin wasn't crying anymore, and a little shocked at how calmly he slept. The blonde had to have been making up for all the sleep he'd missed lately, as Harry had heard him late at night pitter pattering around the house and crying out while he did sleep. Harry had thought about doing something about it before but had not. Overall, a lot of the time he sat there thinking about Malfoy, and despite their history, he couldn't possibly harbor one ill feeling towards the boy now. Could he even blame the kid he had known for saying the things he had believed, just because that's how he was raised? His hand had petted Draco slightly before he realized it, a soft sigh eliciting from the boy. Harry smiled in spite of himself. How utterly ridiculous this situation was, how strange how close they were, and yet how content they both were with it. Well, for the moment anyways, he knew Draco would wake up and suddenly be angry at everything - at Harry, at his father, and especially at himself.

As if Draco heard his thoughts, he suddenly squirmed, waking up engulfed in heat he didn't understand. Sleepily he realized his arse hurt from sitting on wood and that someone was holding him. Everything flashed behind his lids and his first instinct was to push the man holding him away and running away, the second was to pretend he was still sleeping. Yes, he was angry at himself for allowing all this, and a blush came to his cheeks immediately at his own stupidity, but at the same time it felt so good to be held and he tried to tell himself he could pretend it was anyone else but the famous Harry Potter. However, when he tried to imagine it as Pansy Parkinson or his mother or someone unknown, he couldn't and was left to the first instinct. He untangled himself from Harry quickly, jumping away as far as he could in one movement. Harry only stretched his arms, unaltered by the sudden movement. It was like he was mocking him. He wanted to cry again, did Draco's sudden motions mean absolutely nothing? This time, however, he was able to steel himself. The thin man opened his mouth to scream at the other boy but didn't know what to say.

Harry got up, stretching his back and absolutely not acting like Draco's oncoming onslaught was within a moments distance. "Don't mention it." He said, with no hint of insecurity whatsoever. "Though next time if we could not be sitting in the middle of a room on a hard surface, that would be great. Draco looked absolutely scandalized, thoroughly screaming within the confines of his head that there would not be such a next time, thank you very much. Harry left without another word, leaving a very angry young man to himself. Said young man immediately left the room also, not wanting to be anywhere near the boggart now that he remembered that portion of the ordeal.

And it was for all the reasons they could think of that they didn't even see each other for the rest of the day, food left out for Draco in the hall from whatever room he was with a sharp knock on the wall. The room in which everything had happened had been abandoned, it's cleaning ignored by both of them. Hedwig came and went with messages from concerned members of the Weasley family and others concerning his situation, and he wrote back only to write that everything was fine and that this really was necessary. Harry couldn't help but smile lightly to himself both at the concern from his friends and the fact that he so wholeheartedly trusted someone no one else seemed to. And with a sigh he went to bed that night.

It was well past midnight when Draco woke up sweating and clinging to his blanket, curled up and feeling sick. The nightmares again, they seemed to get worse each time he had them. It was not just memories but his mind wandered to what would happen if he was found or just new occurrences that were even worse than he had that night less than a week ago. He started crying softly to himself. It was here, in the middle of darkness, that he felt the most hopeless. Draco couldn't very well just get up and start cleaning. Instead he always got up and padded around. He did this every night and it was getting bothersome, if only he could sleep like he did while in Potter's arms... Mentally slapping himself for thinking such things, he tried to make excuses for it. "He was just somebody, anyone would feel better while in someone's arms." But no one had ever held him like that, ever comforted him in that way. Running a hand through silken hair, he admitted to himself even if he did not want to that Harry had definitely surprised him. Not only was he a singularly caring individual, even to his enemies, but he was someone who at the same time could make you feel like they didn't care that way you didn't feel nearly as strange as being picked apart by someone. It was obviously a Gryffindor trait to do things rashly, unthinkingly, but that didn't mean that Draco had expected it of anyone - much less someone whom hated him, at least until recently.

He yawned and sleepily realized he was walking around in circles. Going up the stairs, he passed his room and went up another flight to find himself next to the door of one Harry Potter. He looked into the already open door, wanting to look at the man whom was able to boil his blood with anger and nervousness at the same time. Why was it that Draco only doubted himself in the presence of the famous, perfect Harry Potter? He almost left when he remembered the almost passive 'next time' Harry had mentioned. Looking over his shoulder, he was tempted. Certainly he wanted to stop the dreams from ruining him but he couldn't very well just snuggle up to Potter every time he had a nightmare, or wanted to sleep. In fact, that idea made him sick. He held his stomach at the thought of getting so cozy and familiar with Harry in that way. And it was with regretful eyes, though he would never admit it, that he worked his way back to his own bedroom. 


	9. Forced Outing

A/N: It was going to be longer but I had to cut it off at some point, I suppose, so not nearly as much fun happens in this chapter as hoped. Will update soon. Happy Thanksgiving!

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The inhabitants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place had only barely woken up, individually, when the bell rang. Draco, whom ususally would have been woken up much earlier if not for his bout of nightmares he'd been having recently, pretty much walked down the stairs only to hear someone was at the door, so stalked back up the staircase before Harry had a chance to open the door.

Harry, who had always been a late sleeper if he had a choice, braced himself as he opened the door. He sighed when he saw Hermione Granger standing there, thinking to himself that it could be much worse. "Hello Hermione." She smiled gently and he moved aside to let her in, her carefulness acknowledged in comparison to Ron's a week before. "So what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, you know why I'm here really, I'm sure. You trust him, so I trust him for the moment, but the Weasley family is not so easily reassured... or fooled as they'd probably put it." Her smiled didn't waver. "They were worried but Molly absolutely told them they could not come over to harass you about it and she and Arthur have been terribly busy lately. So, here I am." She made her way to sit on the love seat in the sitting room and Harry sat on a chair of his own. "Now that that's all clear, do you want to update me on anything?"

Harry really didn't but couldn't bring himself to let her return with nothing. "Me and him don't really talk much, and bicker when we do. Old habits and all that. If he wanted to kill me in my sleep, he'd have byt now. He's up most the night walking around the house." He noted Hermione's eyes wandering around. "Oh yes, and he's been cleaning. I rather think he's taken a liking to it, actually. I cook, he cleans, we sleep, restart in the morning."

She looked partially outraged and Harry really could not understand why. "He just cleans all day? That's all?"

"I suppose so. I know he's not taking anything if that's what you mean..."

"That's not what I mean at all!" Hermione shrieked. "He's out of his own environment with obviously no positive socialization from you and locking himself up and doing manual labor all day. Does that sound healthy to you? I'm astounded at you."

Harry got it. S.P.E.W revival, for wizards this time. "Okay, so you disagree. What do you think, just give him a wand now?" She shut her mouth, which was an obvious indication that would not be prudent. Her brows furrowed together in a way Harry had seen far too many times. This was hard for her, trying to decide if someone should be treated like an equal or not. The obvious answer was yes until remembered that that person was Draco Malfoy, whom wasn't exactly known for his honest nor honorable nature.

"Well, what does he like to do?" Harry almost dropped his jaw. How was he supposed to know? "Well find out, and do it, within certain safe limits of course. It can be an emotional reward for his cleaning activities. No matter what, you must balance work and fun."

"You're the very last person I want to hear that from, Hermione." The black haired boy said, with the inability to not smile as he proclaimed it. With that, she had excused herself and left Harry with the mentally strenuous task of confronting someone who hates him, finding out what he likes to do, and then doing it with him. The man, running a hand through his tussled hair, didn't even know how to breach the first problem. Draco's quiet presence had been fine in itself until Hermione mentioned that it was unhealthy. The bottling up in himself wasn't a good thing, he supposed, but it was so much better than fighting, right? Fighting between the two of them couldn't be healthy either, and Harry could not help but believe that maybe Draco ending up on his doorstep was not the right thing for either one of them. He had to remind himself that if Draco had anywhere else to go, he surely would have, before he headed up the stairs. Every step magnified his uneasiness as he made his way to Draco's room. The door was closed, so he knocked gently.

Draco had been hiding, quite sure that any moment a Weasley or something bigger and badder would run through the door and accuse him of things. He now was ducked behind the other side of the bed, away from the door, unsure of what to do. They had knocked. It could mean that they weren't a threat, or that Harry had told them to be polite, or it could be Harry. So with those options, he couldn't think of any reason why he would want to open it but at the same time if he didn't the person on the other side would come in anyways. So, quite agianst his will, he tiptoed to the door and opened it slightly. Looking quite paranoid as he looked at Harry and decided no one else was there, he opened it further. He couldn't very well stop the man from being wherever he pleased in his own home.

Harry's movements were fluid, the Slytherin had to notice, as the scruffy looking man came in and sat at the desk, turning the chair to face Draco. "Sit." Draco at first looked completely shocked at being told what to do, but he found himself sitting on the bed none the less. They both sat there for a moment, unable to look at each other, before the brunette began to speak. "So, I appreciate your enthusiasm for cleaning but immersing yourself into it all day every day isn't a good idea for anyone." He didn't have to look at Draco to assume that the boy was glaring at him with eyes that asked who he was to tell him what was good for him or not, however in reality Draco only stared at him with an unsure gaze. "It'd be good for you to do something you enjoy doing, a hobby or something." He watched Draco's face contort a little, shocked and beating himself up and saying that for once Hermione had a bad idea.

It became plainly obvious to Draco that he didn't have any real hobbies. He was just so used to being able to do as he wished whenever he pleased. Usually his time consisted of spending money on unnecessary thing, bullying someone, or studying, and none of those sounded remotely fun now. A moment's panic ran over him, his life had not only been turned around but made so it was devoid of all fun. He hesitated, but since he did not have an answer he retaliated with a question. "I don't know, give me an example. What do you like to do? As a hobby and such."

This time it was Harry's turn to realize that he himself didn't have any real hobbies. He enjoyed flying but that was both dangerous now and he wasn't sure he could consider that an actual hobby. Chess was plaid between him and Ron but that was to Ron's discretion more than his own. Looking like a deer caught in the head lights, me muttered. "You know, I have no idea." He raked his hand through matted hair. "I've always been too busy or not allowed to do anything fun, with the exception of things I let my friends choose."

They studied themselves for a moment. Draco looked as if at any moment he would ridicule Harry for not practicing what he preached, the dark haired man only looked a bit sheepish. Neither said anything for a long time. It was an uncomfortable silence, to be sure, but at the same time it seemed less awkard to just be in each others company in silence than to try to ignore the other one's existence in another room. "Fine, get ready, we're leaving." The shorter man rose, looking sturdy and regal in his own fashion, and left the room. Draco looked around nervously, as if to try to find an excuse to stay behind, but as he found himself alone his protests didn't matter. Giving up, he opened the wardrobe.

Harry, himself, got his clothes and showered. He himself wasn't exactly sure where they would go but figured some time out of this blasted house, no matter how pristine it now looked, was a good idea for both of them. He came down to find no one there and assumed Draco was not yet ready. The darker man did not wear anything particularly fancy, a tee and some jeans. So it was no wonder that he was startled when Draco came sauntering down with a high collared white dress shirt and a steel grey damask vest, complete with black slacks. Sure, he had bought the clothes, and certainly Draco had done anything but slack off on his impeccable dressing skills, but Harry thought it was still rather interesting to see. While he wanted to take it as a hint that Draco was excited, he couldn't help but let a slight laugh burst through his lips.

Draco didn't look amused, quickly turning on his heel. "Fine, I'll change." Slim, rough fingers that had all to often ran through black hair grasped Draco's wrist and gently pulled him back.

"No, it's fine. I guess I never really get used to how formal you are."

Draco frowned even deeper. "So I'm overdressed?"

"Probably a bit, but let's just call you fashionable and get on with it." Harry didn't want to compliment the git but he didn't want to wait for Draco to change ten times before they could leave, it seemed instinctual that that was the very same type of thing Draco would do, too.

"I'll go change."

"Hey." Another tug at Draco's wrist made the boy spin towards the physically stronger individual, reminding them of the physical contact. Harry, however, did not let go. "I'm not calling you a fop or anything. I'm just not really used to it. We got me, who pretty much wears what's there, Ron who as you point out to him often poor and gets hand me downs, and Hermione who pretty much dresses like a normal muggle outside of school." He shrugged slightly, tugging the boy with him as he pulled him out of the room and into the hallway. "You should know better than to take my opinion on clothing seriously, I mean look at me." He indicated his hair but something sparked in Draco that Harry saw only momentarily. Raising an eyebrow, he couldn't help but be curious when the blonde suddenly looked excited. Not his outer features, mind you, but his steely gaze now sparkling like diamonds over silver.

The two of them became painfully obvious that the rough hand of the man whom owned this house's hand was still clasped gently around the pale, slender wrist of his former opponent. Draco blushed, tempted to pull away in horror, while Harry pretended it didn't matter as he in the back of his head noted how silky smooth the skin was, and how lacking it was in hair for the most part, with the exception of very fine short white blonde every so often. Both of them swallowing and not noticing the other's awareness of the situation, Harry apparated, taking Draco side along. Then, he let himself release his grip - as if that had been the plan the entire time.

Draco looked around, it was a place he had never been before. It took him a few moments before he recognize that there were muggle cars all standing side by side, in which he replied to this revelation with a quicksilver glare at Harry. "Potter, exactly where are we and why?" He was only responded by a shrug as the dark haired boy started to walk away. The thought of staying behind and refusing to go anywhere but back home - then cursing himself for considering his former rival's house his home - until a muggle car started his way. He ran after Harry, tempted to hide behind him but refusing to all the same. They entered a building, the door opening for them before they could even touch it, to find themselves almost immediately surrounded by people. Draco couldn't help but try to get as close to Harry as possible, afraid of getting lost and separated, also finding himself flinching every time someone came too close to him. "Uh, so, what are we doing?" He tried to keep his tone light and Harry couldn't help but feel it unnatural for the blonde boy's sharp edge to be dulled by a place that reminded himself of Hogwarts during passing periods.

Taking pity on the taller one, though he didn't seem it as he seemed to be crouching in Harry's direction as if to hide behind him, he answered. "Well, this is a muggle shopping centre. I figured you would enjoy shopping but it's hard for the famous Harry Potter to get around in the wizarding world, and I supposed you wouldn't want to end up in the paper somehow. Remember, can't even go into a book store without making the front page." Malfoy couldn't help but stare at his classmate, forced to awknowledge how carefully Potter had thought this through. He couldn't go into the wizarding world yet because of the death eaters, not without them knowing where he is anyway. And he wasn't sure he wanted it to get out that Harry and him were friendly now, even if it wasn't entirely true, and he had a feeling that Harry had thought that through as well. He was about to say thank you but he suddenly got bumped into. Standing straight for the first time since entering the crowd, but almost nudging impossibly towards the dark haired boy without actually touching him, he looked around.

Now that it came up, he was sure that shopping wouldn't be too bad. Granted he didn't have money any more, and didn't really want to shop in muggle stores, and didn't want to owe Harry any more than he did, and didn't want to shop with Harry. Suddenly he didn't like this idea as much. But there was no lie that he felt the pang of excitement nonetheless. He'd always had money, to be sure, and got whatever he wanted. But no one had actually went shopping with him to just go shopping with him. His mom would go shopping and take him with her, his father would buy things and take him on these outings - he shuddered at remembering his father - and he bought stuff for school. This was different, this was a free day to just do whatever they wanted, even if he felt slightly trapped by being with Potter in his own way he also felt safe. If anyone came after him, Harry could surely save him. After all, even if they still hated each other, chances are the Gryffindor would save him just out of sheer honor. He felt safe, even though his body jumped at every possible threat.

Harry lead the way for awhile, then ended up at a sign. It was a plain illuminated sign that had a red dot that told them where they were. As well as map of the entire building, color coded by what type of merchandise each store had. "So, what kind of stuff should we go look at?" Something seemed to click in Draco's brain, as when Harry had politely looked at him to await his answer, those silver eyes slowly came upon him, gleaming. For the first time the dark haired boy could remember since the Slytherin had come into his possession, the casual smirk seemed to place itself onto Draco's face. Momentarily the Boy Who Lived thanked Hermione for her great idea, then he remembered that the only reason Draco would possibly smile was if he was planning something that had to do with somehow humiliating Harry.

The green eyes watched Draco like a prey, frozen and unsure. Thin pink lips in an ensnaring grin caught his attention. "Let's go clothes shopping, Potter."

What? "I already bought you clothes, are you unhappy-"

"Oh no, not for me." The height of the other man suddenly became for more obvious, the blonde towering over him. "I can wear a dishrag and look stunning. Let's make you stop looking so absolutely mediocre." Harry really didn't know how to react, his head jarred between anger of the unnecessary attack on his appearance and the unwanted but not unappealing image of an almost naked Draco. Except not battered and bruised and unconscious, but smirking quite evilly at him as he was now and looking absolutely full of himself.

Draco suddenly dragged him off then, slithering past the crowds as best as possible but barging on without flinching once. Harry was left with painful skinny fingers clawing into his upper arm and dragging him along. People were looking at them but that's not what Harry thought about. The hand on his arm hurt a bit, sure, but he couldn't think of one reason why when Draco had grabbed him an electrical shock seemed to go down his spine. He must just be afraid, yes that must have been it.

Draco Malfoy had always scared him, he supposed, but now his lungs and stomach seemed to have contracted in sheer fright. At least he hoped that was the reason.

--

Another A/N: Oh yes that's right, I'm going to jump right on the bandwagon for 'Draco tries to make Harry looks like he _didn't_ just walk out of bed. Hopefully it will be a bit different. Remember, he's limited by muggle fashion and lack of magic and no money!


	10. Too Close for Comfort

Harry just stood there quite limp while Draco gave him clothes, supposedly to try on. He found it strange that Draco didn't even once ask his size. Draco found his lame expression aggravating. "You're the one that brought me out here to this... place." His face contorted to allow Harry to know that he was about to say something about muggles. "Anyways, I'm practically doing this as a favor to you. Maybe people wouldn't hate you so much if you even looked the part of temporary savior of the... race." A few muggles looked their way strangely and Harry really doubted that the fact that people disliked him or disbelieved him or thought he was a nutter had anything to do with how he dressed. Draco piled something else into his arms quite casually, simply plucking it off the rack and tossing it into the pile.

"How about I go try things on?" He had a fair amount of regret for saying that, since he didn't really want to try things on, but none the less he wanted to detach himself from both the job of carrying stuff and the strange feeling of Draco's refound arrogant aura. He ducked towards the closets, where a lady opened the door and let him in. Draco followed, much to Harry's dismay.

"You're showing me every article of clothing. And please, please, please try to wear things that match together." Harry stared at the door a moment, frozen. Had Draco really just said please? Three times? He could hear the girl who had let him into the dressing room compliment Draco on his tastes as he got dressed in the first outfit.

A navy V neck sweater, black jeans, black shoes. Simple, perfect. Until he stepped out of the small room. "You're hopeless." He wasn't even out of the doorway entirely yet. The girl stared at Malfoy in shock of his cold bluntness. "No taste whatsoever." And without further adu, he pushed Potter back into the room and followed him into it, closing the door behind him. He heard the girl giggle slightly.

"Hey-"

"Navy with black? You're kidding me, right? And all just plain colored, no patterns? Pathetic." Why these words seem to cut Harry to the bone, he had no idea, but he was getting angry. "Shirt off." Harry complied, if only to hide his blush and will it away by the time the shirt went over his head, only to be replaced by another that Draco forced over him. "And put these on." They were a pair of green socks. Harry didn't hesitate but he looked at Draco with strange quirk in his eyebrow anyways. As soon as the shiny black shoes were back on, he felt a coat going over him and he put that on as well.

Draco pushed him out of the cubicle then, and Harry couldn't help as if he'd just come out of a whirlwind. And why was there suddenly four female employees looking at him expectantly, smiling. "Oh, adorable!" One of them piped up, to be hushed by two others. He span around to see himself. A green turtleneck did in fact bring out his eyes, hidden behind a silvery grey military type jacket that opened to show quite a bit of the green undershirt. He couldn't help but give a sidelong glance at the one who did this to him. Was it him, or was this highly Slytherin looking?

"Okay, next." Harry barely had time to notice Draco going back into the dressing room before he grimaced.

"You stay out here and flirt or something, just tell me what to put on and I'll put it on, alright?" For some reason, the idea of him getting practically naked with the hurricane that is Draco in the same room did not make him comfortable.

So it was that he tried on various clothes, often coming out to help Draco tie some stupid scarf. He was happy to find out that Draco's choices were not limited to Slytherin colors but in fact ranged into even pinks, which he adamantly refused to wear, quite sure that the boy was just trying to get him to wear something ridiculous. He had to admit he was both relieved for his pocketbook and upset that he had to try on so much when they ended up buying only a couple items at the cash register. That was until Draco let on that this was not going to be the only store they would be shopping at today.

At each store he tried on things against his will to make Draco happy, and he wondered about that. It was made even worse by the fact that at every store they seemed to think they were something other than former enemies forced by situation into each others presence and trying to work together to make life not so bad... They thought they were a lot more, to put it lightly. The Slytherin either didn't mind or didn't notice and Harry decided not to press the subject, quite fearful that Draco's attitude would change midstroke and he'd burrow into himself like he had. Maybe Hermione had been onto something, though he wished he hadn't become a test dummy.

Draco, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. Girls were not nearly as scary as men, he got to torment Harry Potter, he got to spend money; how could he be any happier? He wasn't really sure when he had become so close to his dark haired companion, able to reach out and grab him and spin him around and pull him this way or that so easily, and that nagged at the back of his head. But when him and Harry slamming hats onto each other, fedoras and cabbies and even ugly muggle baseball caps, he had laughed despite himself. And when Harry laughed with him, he felt something move within him.

And it was like that that the spent the day, moving from store to store and buying things more to Draco's discretion than anything else. Draco somehow felt special and cared for, without any weird and awkward occurances. When it came to come home, and Draco was carrying the fruits of his labors, the only thing weird about Harry holding his arm to apparate them back was that it didn't feel weird, never minding that he could have easily apparated his way back by himself. It was already dark outside when they loaded everything into Harry's place.

Draco was exhilirated, Harry was tired, but they were both content in their own way. They both collapsed on the love seat, Harry slumping sleepily and Draco flopping playfully. Harry had to look at Draco, seeing a flush under the boy's skin that wasn't so much pink as it just made him look less pale and more alive. A tint of a smile graced those thin, rose lips in a way he'd never seen before. The dark haired man found him staring at Draco through lazy emerald eyes, studying him. How different they were in everything, even more than just in appearance. He felt his eyelids get heavy as he saw the boy rummaging through the newly collected items.

But before Draco could decide an outfit made up of various store's merchandise for Harry to try on for him, Harry had fallen asleep, leaning over the opposite side of the small couch's arm.

Harry knew instantly that he was on the couch when he felt himself come out of his sleep. He had fallen asleep here many times on his own and knew the curve of the cushions and the feeling of the upholstery. Him and the ache that came with laying awkardly on a place that is both not straight and too small were familiar with one another. However, he knew immediately something else, and that was that someone was laying on him, and once he thought about it he didn't have to analyze his mind very far to figure out who. Personally, he didn't care and was ready to just go back to sleep, but a nagging curiosity to actually see it bugged him until he slowly lifted heavy eyes.

The hero was laying on his back now, one leg spraled over the edge and bent to the floor, the other tucked between draco and the back cushion, bent into a V. Draco laid between his legs, head resting on it's side on top of the darker boy's chest. Those pale arms, one hand tucked under his chin and the other sprawled to Harry's hip. Legs tucked in on the remaining area of the couch between Harry's legs, close a fetal position again. Harry, who his arms had just been laying aimlessly at either side, could not help but lift them, placing one in Draco's hair and the other reaching for his wand that was still in his pocket. He whispered "Accio blanket!" and it covered them up to Draco's shoulders. Putting the wand by his head, he placed that arm over Draco's shoulder and fell back to sleep, wondering why all he had just done seemed so natural.

Draco later woke up, quite suddenly. He opened his eyes without moving, still quite tired, and saw that it was already dusk. He had only meant to rest his eyes while leaning on Potter for a few moments, an hour maybe. Now somehow they had become entangled into each other, Draco's body now facing Harry's, knees bent so his feet almost hovered in the air because of the arm of the seat, arms tucked into an almost hug of the other boy. Worse was the fact that Harry was just as much tangled in him as the other way around, one knee laying over Draco's legs, both arms wrapped around Draco's head lazily. Although he was panicking a bit, he couldn't help but feel warm and comforted in this grasp. It was late that he noticed the blanket over them, under each of them in some places as evidence of movement, proof that Harry had woken up at some point.

His heart beat ferverently, hoping that the other boy had woken up whilst the sleeping together was a chaste lean onto the other boy. He felt his face get warm. Worse off was that he couldn't crawl out of the grasp without waking the one he was so entwined with. His body said that he didn't even want to leave Harry's careful hold anyways but his mind screamed at him. Again, the confusion from when he was raped, the inability for himself and his physical being to agree. Daring to lift his head slightly to look at the other boy, he was shocked to find green staring right back at him. His heart stopped dreadfully.

"Oh, so you've awaken." What was that? That careless tone while he was holding onto him the way he was, which he shouldn't be if he had woken up. His arms shouldn't be around him like this, Harry Potter shouldn't have his knee around Draco's legs. One hand was not supposed to be, under any circumstance other than unconsciousness, half way ran through his pearly hair. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by Harry continuation. "I bet no one at school would think that the prosperious and pompous Draco Malfoy would ever sleep with the legendary and often referred to as insane Harry Potter."

That was it, Draco scrambled, trying to get out of this couch with the blasted man. "We did not SLEEP together, not in the way your leading on to, anyways." No, they just had been entangled together, warm and cozy in each others arms.

"Malfoy, if you wanted to be between my legs so badly, you really should have said so." This jeering was unnatural coming from Harry, and it was in mid swipe that Draco realized what Harry was doing. Despite the deep blush on Draco's face, his arrogance and cunning demeanor welled up inside him joyously. Harry, by making things awkward, was making things less personal, and therefor less awkward in the way that really would matter later. Harry was letting Draco hate him, because he knew that was what Draco was most comfortable with. This knowledge did not stop Draco's hand, now powered by the cruelty he had let run him for years, from loudly clashing against the brunette's cheek.

Things were calm now, and Draco would be able to rationally undo himself from Harry, who had moved his hands and leg to allow for it. That was until he actually tried at it. For a moment, their bodies rubbed together and their faces were in very close proximity to each other. The other would never know that it was in that moment that each heart stopped, staring in calm green that seemed very secretive for a moment, and big shocked grey ones. Then Draco continued to move, up and away, and they both were able to breathe again.

The took showers simultaneously that morning, which was possible through magic. Draco's was extremely hot, hoping that the burning skin would take his mind off of what happened, to clean his enemy off of him, to wash away the lingering feeling of where Harry had been so warmly holding him. Harry was the opposite, his shower extremely cold, as his mind had inadvertently wandered where he was fairly sure it shouldn't go. However, in that moment of closeness, beyond the lazy togetherness they had shared before, he couldn't help but have been enticed by Draco's mussed hair, the curve of his body, those metallic eyes that had gone oh so wide. He shook his head, saying it had to do with the fact that he'd just been under socialized as a child and despite his small endeavors before, he was still not used to such things.

And that morning, Draco had reverted to his old antisocial self, quite sure that he would not talk to Harry more than absolutely necessary. He'd clean all day, ignoring the boy with black hair. No, he really did not want to look at the other man until he reclaimed his sneer, which had been broken since the night before he showed up. That was until Harry came into his room, food in hand. He sighed, he'd just take the food, say thank you, and then the man would leave, surely. Until he looked up.

Harry was actually wearing the clothes Draco had bought the day before. Draco, having just taken the food, almost dropped it. This was hardly fair, that Harry now looked like a handsome human being, his messy hair accenting it instead of taking away from it. It was his fault, he knew that, but at the same time...

It did not go unnoticed by Harry that grey sharp eyes were raking over him, which didn't really help his own thoughts. Against his will, he blushed sightly. "You don't have to look surprised, I paid for them, it only makes sense that I would wear them." He said nervously and Draco looked away, taking his food. Harry also looked away.

In that moment, the air was still and the tension was high. They both were aware something was changing, but for the life of them they didn't want to think of what. They were no longer comfortable, unable to truly revert to their usual jibes and defenses. Their instincts had gone from a fire-like hatred to a calm fluidity, everything was so simple that it was painful. Both of them had been so very lonely over the years, nothing had changed in that aspect, they had always both been pinnacle people surrounded by others who never really understood them.

Now, however, on the brink of someone who they actually might have a connection with, they wavered, sudden aware of their isolation more than ever.

--

A/N: Weird place to end, I know.


	11. Constant Hinderance

A/N: In which I bastardize Ginny because I never liked her in the first place.

--

The next week went by without much effort. People came and went, checking up on Harry periodically. These people rarely saw Draco, with the exception of Ron who glared in his direction and their former Professor Lupin, who only smiled warily in general. While Draco didn't seem skittish towards these men, it probably because they didn't try to approach him. There was also times where Harry saw the man who shared his house while people were visiting, but were not seen by the guests themselves. He didn't hide in his room when Hermione or Mrs. Weasley were there and seemed particularly set on being out and about when Ginny visited with the twins.

They never talked about it. Never did they talk about anything that could possibly border either their newly found comfort for one another nor what happened before he showed up that night. Incidentally, the also never spoke about the years they spent fighting with each other. However, they did talk and spent time together. They would both read in the living room or Draco would try to help him in the kitchen with simple things like peeling potatoes. They made conversation about Quidditch or other news in the magical world, and even a few time the Malfoy would ask about the muggle world.

Things were safe, silent, and perhaps they both should have relished in it. A vacation of all the drama that was their lives. Yet something itched underneath, something they couldn't scratch. Despite themselves, they fought less and less. Sometimes they would pick a fight with the other for what seemed to be for old times sakes, but they got along surprisingly well without other people to interfere. And Harry couldn't help but think about the fact that the sorting hat had wanted him in Slytherin, and even worse, that he had made his decision not to be so because of Draco and Ron's opinion of him.

And Draco's nightmares seemed to get worse, though Draco hadn't thought that possible. Harry would wake up to screams and his first reaction would always be to jump out of bed and run to his side. However, iron will of a Gryffindor kept him at bay, he'd sit in his bed, almost ready to throw the covers aside. And Draco would silence himself almost immediately. The house would go silent and Harry would decide not to go, as it would only make things strange. He didn't wish to cause a rift between them, to demolish the peace and the little happiness they had. But he wouldn't sleep again, and he found himself losing just as much sleep as his Slytherin companion.

That's exactly what happened one night, the usual scream which lead Harry to almost bolt from his bedding, but then he relaxed, laying down from his half sitting position, when the screaming stopped. It seemed like it had been an especially shrill screech and he was surprised to hear movement in the floor under him. He had considered how bad it must have been, since Draco hadn't roamed around in many days. What made him really, shocked, was when creaky stairs were pummeled under quick steps and the footsteps came to his door, hesitating for a moment before opening it more. Harry didn't even have time to pretend to be sleeping, so he stared. Draco looked positively like he was about to sneak in, but seeing the shine of eyes looking back at him, he seemed to puff up. Harry opened his mouth, quite sure that Draco would go hide off somewhere in response to being seen, but it was unnecessary. The tall boy stood straight and just walked as elantly as always, despite the fact he was in boxers and a t-shirt, to the foot of the bed.

"I'm tired, and I'm tired of being tired." That was all he said in a deadpan factual sort of way. No compliments, no admittance of why he was here. He just got to the side of the bed and crawled under the blankets. Neither made advances to touch one another and that was fine. Draco only needed the accompaniment, or he told himself, the warmth of another individual being there if they were needed. He was using Harry, he said to himself.

So they began to share a room. It was an unspoken agreement but it was sure before they had even fallen asleep that first night. They always woke up, much to their annoyance, wound up in each other. Sometimes it was a simple spooning, other times it was almost erotic just how tied up they were. They both tried to abolish anything sexual from their minds. So for almost a week it was the same type of relationship but with peaceful, albeit frustrating, sleeping situations. And while morning wood was certainly embarrassing, neither of them ever brought it up.

However, after the fifth night sleeping together, Malfoy ended up waking spooned by Potter. This was nothing new, his body held tightly and comfortingly by the man he had once called Scar Head. A faint pink touched his cheeks as he noticed where Harry's manhood was this time, right between his other cheeks, in the slight slight crevice. Okay, no big deal. He told himself to breathe, then he felt a hot breath somewhere that almost made him jerk out of reach. Light, hot wind came out of lips that lightly were pressed against his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as warm air tickled his long neck. The worse part was the sudden twitch in his already hard, from morning wood, cock. The butterflies in his stomach flew around nervously. And unlike that night, where his body had acted against his will when he inside felt nothing that it was showing, it would be a lie if he denied he himself suddenly very aroused more than physically.

It was wrong on so many levels. The last thing he wanted was sex, or was the last thing he wanted was to be attached to someone he had spent so many years trying to hate? Trying to hate? Was his feelings for Harry ever really hate, or just spite? The great Harry Potter had turned down his friendship, and now that he realized that he had been a pissant, a puppet, a parrot he didn't know what he had been happening. The more he thought about it, it just seemed like he wanted Harry to notice him, to accept him as his equal, even if it was in the opposite scale of things. Another breath made him catch his own. His fingers left the blanket in front of him and he hesitantly placed his in the lazy, sleeping hand of Harry's that had snaked under him sometime through the night.

Draco knew, was perfectly aware of what unwanted things were happening to him then. He'd never experienced anything like this before, always too standoffish even from the girls who had adored him to know someone to this level, this intimately. There it was, laid out before him, and half of him wanted to refuse it, but be damned if the other half didn't want to take it. To take Harry. They way that he had felt when Ginny had entered their house, how he had watched them interact made sense to him now. He sighed absently, about to pull his hand away, but Harry's hand twitched then, grabbing his own for only a brief second, and Malfoy could feel something swell inside of him. He tried to go back to sleep then, smiling.

The jerk of the hand had actually only indicated that Harry had woken up. He didn't even review the situation between them this time, quite used to and content with their closeness. Harry had no feelings he felt needed to be sorted out at this point, quite willing to just take them as they came. It would be a lie if he said he wasn't intrigued by Draco, wasn't perfectly happy when they were embracing each other, wasn't physically attracted to the other boy's feminine class. And some mornings, he allowed himself to not want to let go. Like this morning.

Both of them spent most of the day in bed, holding each other deep into the afternoon. They'd fall into naps but wake up and pretend to sleep and just enjoy the other while they had them. They'd move around, each slowly making things more intricate. By the time they were willing to unwind themselves, things had gotten really warm. Harry rested his head in the crook of Draco's neck, closed lips against skin and nose breathing fire onto the pale exterior of the boy. His arms were wround the boy's torso and hand up over the shoulders, holding him close. Draco, on the other hand, had his hands in Harry's hair and a leg over Harry's front quite lazily, his pelvis grinding into Harry's hip. When Draco stirred and pretended to wake up quite convincingly, and 'woke' Harry up as well, they were both happy. Not because they were aware of each other's feelings - that was impossible for the other to like them back - but because their 'morning woods' simply couldn't take the strain any longer.

The guilt was horrible as well. Both of them respectively felt bad for having used the others body in a way that wasn't entirely honest. Draco was shocked at the revelation that he actually felt bad about this, since it was in his nature to use and abuse people, and he certainly hadn't felt bad before for any of the things he had done to one Harry Potter. To say it was unnatural felt like an understatement. So it was with heavy hearts but an unfamiliar light-headedness that they separated ways that afternoon. The Gryffindor went to the kitchen to cook something up for the both of them, not bothering to even get dressed properly. The blonde, on the other hand, was not so easily broken out of his habits. Since the day after his first here, he had made an effort to always look his best as he was accustomed to for years now. Harry had even asked him once who exactly he was supposed to be impressing but the conversation had kindly ended there when Harry left the room with a smile. Draco asked himself that later and then decided he really didn't want to know the answer.

It was in the middle of their meal, now that the meals had been without notice moved to the dining room a few evenings before, that someone knocked on the door. Malfoy stayed behind, staring at his potatos and gravy and poking it with a piece of meat on his fork, listening intently as to hear who had barged in during mealtime. He tried to tell himself that he didn't really care, that it was no big deal, but couldn't help the ebb of annoyance. He leaned in to take a bite.

He bit the fork. It wasn't on purpose, but he knew the voice that he could hear mingled with Harry's. It was female, it was strong, it was young, and it was definitely a Weasley. His teeth crazed dangerously against cold metal as he stared at the hall towards where the two were. Her shrill excitement, his soft dark voice. He got up from the table and followed, listening in closer. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop, but despite his newly found guilt and feelings, he was still the epitome of a Slytherin boy.

"Come on, Harry! It will be fun, and Fred and George already bought the tickets for us."

"Why did they buy me a ticket to a game I didn't agree to go to?"

"You've been hanging out with Malfoy for too long! You're way too paranoid."

Malfoy gritted his teeth. Was she implying that Malfoy's personality was rubbing off on Harry or that Harry was constantly paranoid about him? Either way didn't sound very good.

"It's not that I'm paranoid, it's that I don't really want to go."

"Why would you turn down a Quidditch game?" Her voice was demanding and Draco kind of agreed with her.

"Because of how well the Quidditch cup turned out, maybe." Harry replied, halfheartedly. The blonde flinched, remembering the night and the Death Eaters. Which didn't scare him then but were phantoms to him now. "Besides, I can't just leave Malfoy here by himself here alone."

"You're letting someone live with you that you don't trust on his own within it for a night?" Draco glared at the other side of the hall menacingly, absolutely glowering at it. Not sure if he was angry at Ginny, himself, or Harry.

"It's not that at all. What if we take him with us?" Draco smiled absently.

"I don't want to hang out with that slime-ball!" Silence, and the blonde knew she was trying to calm down. She was fiery, he knew that. "Anyways, our seats are already arranged and tickets bought, we couldn't possibly change that now." This didn't change Draco's attitude at all. Somehow, something in him made him feel like he was winning at something. "Come on, Harry, you haven't seen us almost at all in weeks! I miss you." Draco's teeth grit together painfully, his hands balled into fists. He understood he was close to the Weasleys, surely they - as a group - would miss him. But that's not what she said. She only spoke for herself. Suddenly he walked into the room, looking calm and tranquil and royal as ever. "Malfoy." Her brown eyes bore into him.

"If it isn't the most masculine of the Weasleys." His words were like knives, his eyes gleaming evilly. "I knew I heard howling, you must be in heat." She flinched visibly and Harry simply looked as if he was in between a glare and complete shock. "Why don't you go rub yourself all over someone else?"

She seemed to heat up, growing a bit from her small stature. "Why don't you go run off and die, Malfoy? No one wants you here. Stop acting like you're so much better than everyone else while dining under Harry's roof like a sodding leech!" Her nostrils flared. Draco gave her a steady glare. "Go bugger yourself, scumbag."

It was slow, going from a menacing scowl to a mischievous smirk. "Go bugger myself?" His movements were fluid as he headed straight for Ginny, the woman looking as if she was either going to back away or pounce. Then he turned swiftly and instead stepped towards Harry, taking him by the neck. "Why would I do that when I have Potter to do it for me?" He himself tried to ignore the ridgid contact of the other boy, who he assumed would look deliciously scared out of his wits. Ginny, he could see, looked positively affronted. She pulled out her wand quickly but Harry was faster, grabbing Draco and holding him off to the side as he pulled his own wand. Silence rained down on the two of them.

Draco was more than happy to break that silence again. "It's very un-Gryffindor-like to raise your wand to an unarmed person, how very dastardly." He watched as she practically huffed steam and turned away and barged out of the door. He then waited a few moments, letting nervousness set in, before looking up to the darker boy. "Uh, excuse me." Green eyes flashed his way with a sort of shield Draco couldn't read through. "As much as I feel completely flattered, is there any particular reason your dipping me with one hand still?" With that, Harry let the boy up gently.

"Sorry..." Then he looked like he wished he hadn't apologized. "You just made things very difficult for me, you know."

"Why? Because she wants to shag you? I might be killed by a redheaded army, I suppose, but you looked both extremely uncomfortable and I didn't like the sight of her drooling all over you, was quite sickening." The metallic eyes looked towards the door she had left by. "Anyways, if you had been interested, you would have dropped me like a sack of potatos and ran after her." He smiled sidelong at the boy. "In fact, you know where she lives, it's not like it's too late - if you want to go to the game and enjoy her slobber."

Even Harry smiled at the picture that came to mind at that.


	12. In Your Arms

To say that Draco was shook up after the incident was an understatement. Harry had his own emotions to deal with, of course, but he did note that it was the first time the young Malfoy had up front faced someone. The girls at the stores he had only barely acknowledged, almost completely focused on Harry. He had faced someone, and done it acting completely like his normal arrogant self. After that, the boy had seemed exhausted, excusing himself and not going back to his food but off to hide in his room, the one he had lived in before they began to share Harry's room.

Draco also didn't eat much that day, which made Harry worried. Draco was a light eater anyways, which he wasn't sure was the cause of his thin stature or to maintain it, but Harry knew the fact that the person hiding himself away should be not under any circumstances eating less. It was with that thought that late that night, as neither of them seemed tired, that he knocked on Draco's door.

Draco answered, looking fairly disheveled. Harry motioned to the tray in his hands with a head movement, and before Draco could refuse, he barged past the taller boy. "You haven't ate anything since the incident with Ginny, have you?" It wasn't really a question.

"I'm not hungry." Draco said strongly, instead of going to the food, just going to the bed and laying down. It looked like that's what he had been doing the entire time, since the bed was still made but was looking quite ruffled up from movement.

"And why is that?"

"I'm not hungry." It was a lie, Harry could tell.

So he picked up a roll deftly and strolled to the bed, hiding it on the side that Draco couldn't see. He sat next to Draco's side as the blonde laid down. He had to think of something quick, and it was almost unfortunate what the only thing he could come up was. "So about me buggering you..."

It worked, actually better than Harry had hoped. Not only had Draco's jaw dropped, sputtering, but he had also sat up clumsily in effort to get away from Harry. He took this opportunity to stuff the roll in his mouth. He smiled, and Draco looked both unbelievably angry and infinitely relieved. With what Harry noticed as shaking hands, he took the roll out of his mouth and chewed a bite. He swallowed.

"I hate you so much." It was dangerous, but Harry didn't care. Smiling, he crossed his arms and stared at the boy. "What?" Green eyes bore into the blonde, making him uncomfortable. "WHAT?"

"Nothing." Harry got up slowly. "If you hate me so much, you could sleep by yourself." He watched as emotions came and went in startled grey eyes.

"Sorry." That made Harry step back, now the shocked one. The other boy was looking down at his roll. "I don't hate you." He looked up with eyes that could only be described as pleading, and Harry realized that he had perhaps taken it too far. It was surreal to hear Draco apologize for anything and he rather didn't like it. So, with what was left on the edge of the bed, he climbed on and laid down, noting that Malfoy, half sitting, scooted over to give him more room.

"It's weird, isn't it." He wasn't sure what he was talking about exactly; their closeness, the newly found feelings in himself, the fact that they didn't hate each other, the fact that they still fought out of habit, or all of it. He could feel the other boy nodding a bit as he himself wondered exactly what Draco was agreeing to.

The other boy finished his roll and slid down to lay down completely as well. Harry had been facing him so he decided to look at him as well, immediately regretting it. They stared at one another for a long moment. It felt weird, looking at one another openly while laying down and having no intention of getting up. It was strange that they were so close and weren't touching. The silence only made it worse, so Harry spoke again.

"You know, while perhaps telling off people that actually care for me wouldn't be my choice, I'm proud of you. You seemed almost yourself again, that fire of hatred behind your eyes." He smiled. "It made me realize how much you changed."

Draco closed his eyes and grimaced. "I haven't changed."

"Maybe not. Perhaps just my perspective of you has changed. You may have always been the way you are, but I've gotten to see a side of you I hadn't before. You've gone from arrogant, cruel, and obnoxious to confident, quiet, and withdrawn."

Draco's frown deepened. He was always this way before, perhaps, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Was he confident now? He didn't know.

"You haven't spoke once of blood purity, of your heritage - and I understand why." He added quickly. Draco was now gazing at him. "What I guess I'm saying is that if I had met you as you are now, at least while it's just you and me here, I wouldn't have turned down your friendship so many years ago." Harry wondered then what would have happened, since he hadn't wanted to be in Slytherin because he attached it to the bully like personality of Draco Malfoy. He smiled lightly at himself.

He hadn't noticed that something had broken in Draco. Draco felt everything crash. Harry was saying that they could be friends, since he wasn't who Harry had known him to be. For a moment, he didn't breathe. Had he every had a real friend? One that chose him for something other than his status? Even back then, Malfoy knew he had only offered his friendship to Harry because of who he was, so it was only fair. But he remembered meeting the boy in Madame Milkin's, and though the conversation probably only turned Harry off to him more, he had tried to be friendly in his own way there before he had realized who it was.

He was crying. Silver dripped diamonds silently as green focused on him. "Hey!" Harry yelped. "I'm sorry, what did I say?" He had only seen Draco cry once before, and it was after seeing the boggart of his father and rapist. Draco didn't answer, since the blonde was quite sure that if he spoke it would sound broken. Instead, he only grabbed at Harry's shirt lightly and smiled. This confused the poor black haired boy.

Harry's only response was to wrap his arm over the crying boy's shoulder. The boy looked straight at him then, determination in flowing eyes. Choked words spurt out. "Why?" Harry, confused began to take his arm away, thinking perhaps he didn't want him to. They both were surprised when Draco's hand flew from Harry's shirt to his arm to keep him just where he was. Since Harry didn't know what the question was referring to, he didn't know how to answer. Silence.

Why did all this have to happen?  
Why has everything gone wrong?  
Why, despite that, does everything feel alright?  
Why are we able to do this?  
Why did it have to be you?

He was really crying now, leaving Harry totally unaware of what he should do. Draco tried to turn into his pillow, shifting his body around, but Harry seemed to take an opportunity to snake his arm around Draco's slim body and pull him closer, finding Draco crying deeply into the crook of his neck. His hands curled from Draco's shoulder to run through his hair. Harry wanted to know why it hurt so bad to watch Draco cry. Certainly he had seen so many tears in his life that he should be immune, and he even was to a certain degree, almost unaffected though awkward about Cho's tears. Why was Draco different? Was it because it was so unlike him?

Malfoy cried and cried and Harry ventured to hold him closer. Draco was just so overwhelmed as he told himself he was going to give up his old self - the biggoted, whiny part - because Harry was happy with just who he was. Screw his father and his opinions on the wizarding world. He had Harry, and Harry isn't the type to abandon anyone once he made the bonds of friendship, he could tell by the riffraff he always would hang around.

But now everything would change. He'd been ridiculous by trying to tell himself up until now that nothing was changing, and fighting it, and fighting Harry, and fighting himself. Even now, he felt silly for crying all over the other boy, he was showing a side of him he didn't want anyone to see. Especially Harry. But the feeling of the man holding him was comforting none the less, the fact that he could trust who he had spent so many years trying to deceive was so insane. It made him cry more to know that he had so actively tried to ruin this boy's life, and flaunted everything he could in attempt to prove that he was better than Harry. And here they were, under extreme circumstances only to show him just how much of an ass he was. And in the back of his mind he began to be thankful to his father and his death eater friends, if only a tiny bit, because without them he'd never had gotten this chance. Then he realized just how much of a sick moron he must be to even consider that. His bawling became more intense.

"Shh, it's okay..." Draco's body froze. The hand going through his hands hadn't been enough, so Harry had tried to comfort him verbally as well. It seemed to work, because a few mores sobs and Draco was still. Tears still splashed idly on Harry's neck but they weren't as rampant nor frequent. He ran fingers through loose strands, mind on how soft the pale locks were. Without thinking, he moved his head slightly so he was slightly kissing the hair that had become loose and untamed on top of the other boy's head. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, so he didn't move away. He noted the way the more thin of the two always seemed just right in his arms, how warm the boy always was. It was sort of funny, should he have expected ice because of the boy's Slytherin cold bloodedness, or extreme heat because of the fire that had always burned behind those eyes? He suppressed a sigh as he was able to smell the boy's hair. Draco always smelled nice. It wasn't really a particular scent, but the boy always smelled clean and refreshing.

Draco's crying had seemed to ebb away, and the boy ventured to look up at the man holding him, unaware of where Harry's lips were. Electricity ran through both of them as Draco's top lip touched Harry's bottom lip. The froze, keeping like that, not even moving away out of sheer terror, or perhaps there was something else as well, hesitation. Blushes touch both of the boy's cheeks and their eyes, foggy at first, both finally focused on each other. Emerald eyes seemed to shimmer, and Harry immediately recognized that fire behind Draco's eyes, but misinterpreted it. He thought that Draco was angry at him, hated him, so he made to move away slowly.

The blonde thought it over quickly, unsure what the green eyes meant, and though he didn't want to ruin what he had, he also knew that on the very off chance that Harry did want him as well, that the Gryffindor would never let him know, would never be the first to kiss him, because Harry was far too kind and afraid of being banished away. It would be a lie if Draco said he could take to be turned down, so what he did then was extremely stupid. He closed his eyes, quite sure that he might very well just be kicked out within the next five minutes, and pushed himself up. His soft lips landed completely on Harry's just as the brunette made to move away.

It was strange, the feeling of kissing someone who wasn't expecting it. First, everything within Harry seemed to go rigid, then it softened and Draco almost thought that perhaps Harry was just amusing him, especially since Harry's hands left Draco. That was, until both hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. Butterflies flew nervously in his stomach.

On Harry's end, he was scared, then unsure if it was an accident again. Then Draco didn't move, and Harry noticed his eyes were closed. Electricity ran through him in a constant flow as he pulled the boy towards him. It was heaven, just that one long kiss. The lengthy fingers that had always given the blonde a deft ability in potions wrapped around his neck, sleeve taking up the tears to one side of it.

Draco pulled away after a moment but Harry leaned forward and stole another one. And another. The kissed each other back and forth, heat filling up in their heads. When they finally did part their faces from each other, they were out of breathe, eyes looking deep into each other, searching and respectively shining. Heavy breathing was the only sound as they tried to figure the other boy out but neither bothered to explain themselves. Finally they looked away from each other, not moving, but both embarrassed of themselves but elated at the same time.

"Well this is awkward..." Harry said, trying to be lighthearted.

Draco sighed. "It wasn't awkward until you said it was awkward. NOW it's awkward." 


	13. The Triad

Things only got more confusing for Harry and Draco for the next couple days, and nights. Sometimes they would kiss in the same manner they had before, sometimes they would ignore each other. Neither one could bring themselves to ask or tell about the feelings roaring through them. Harry didn't want to scare Draco by proposing something that would make him possibly think about the rape, and Draco didn't want to think about the rape so he didn't offer any more than what had already been given. He had to admit, though, that kissing was nice - something solid and beautiful about it that though it in itself should remind him of the things that had happened to him, didn't. This was because they had not ruined his first kiss for him.

Harry had already kissed before, obviously, but it was never like this. Despite his feminine appearance, Draco was a man and kissed very different from a girl. There was dominance, even if it seemed like an almost needy dominance. There was also a sort of passion in the neediness, proven by the repetitive kisses instead of even one 'french' kiss. Harry never initiated, assuming that Draco considered this some sort of therapy and he would not ruin it by forcing himself on the boy. The blonde was very thankful for that. The brunette also noted that never once did their kissing lead to crying, which made it much better than Cho in itself, not that it needed help.

It was during one of these few kissing sections, as Harry was pressed up against the wall, that there was a knock on the door. Draco glared at it and tried to keep Harry to himself, but the darker boy wrestled out of his arms and in reaction he ran up the stairs and down the hall, though not straying far enough not to hear what was being said, afraid it might be Ginny again. Harry opened the door to meet Ron again. He smiled for a moment at his friend before his friend's expression got to him.

"What did you do to my sister?" He again barged in and sat down on a chair.

Harry closed the door. "Nothing, well, I refused her invitation to go to a Quidditch game."

"Is that why she's going on about how you must be a poof?"

"Oh, that. You know Draco, he said some things he knew would get under her skin, and they did."

"And you let him?" Blue eyes seemed much more like rock then ocean now.

Harry tried to shrug it off. "What could I do? He's not a dog, I can't train him to be nice to people. And in all fairness, she was being nasty about him before he even entered the room."

"He's Malfoy!" Ron using the word made Harry realized that he, too, called Draco 'Malfoy' on a regular basis. He wondered about this, considering what had been going on it didn't seem right. His eyes momentarily flashed in the direction he knew the blonde to be. "We used to always say nasty things about him, because he's a git, remember?"

"So we did..."

"So is it true?"

Now Harry was confused. "Wait, is what true?"

"Are you a poof?"

Harry blinked. "You know, I've never really thought about it." And it was true, he hadn't. He really hadn't cared enough to consider his preference, just what was going on individually. Besides, he was pretty sure 'yes' was the wrong answer in Ron's eyes and 'no' was a lie.

Ron was getting impatient, and flustered, both by his frustration and the topic of conversation. "Well, have you ever, you know, thought of a guy in that way before?"

Yes. He didn't say it, but the answer was so simple that his mind had told him he was in trouble. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by banging on the door. Getting up quickly, thinking perhaps it was an emergency, he answered the door. "Oh, I'm so sorry Harry." It was Hermione. "He's here isn't he?" Harry let her in and she immediately went to Ron. "Ronald, it's none of your business." This shocked Harry a bit.

"It is my business, he's my best friend!"

"Oh, so you came here because you were worried about him and not because of Ginny?"

"Well, I..."

What he said after that didn't matter, because Hermione sat down and Harry followed her. "How have you two been, Harry?"

"Uh, good I guess." What was going on here?

"That's swell. I was wondering if you had been reading the Daily Prophet?" He shook his head. "Ah, well then you didn't know that the Malfoys say their son has run away and are offering a large sum to anyone who gives information that leads to the return of Draco." She frowned. "Dumbledore everyone not to tell anyone where you are under any circumstances. He seems to have information we don't. But, Ginny's really angry and just wants Draco out of her life..."

"She didn't!" Harry realized he was standing, shaking in anger and fear.

"No, no, of course not... Well, she threatened to, but Fred and George talked her out of it and Mrs. Weasley reminded her that if Lucius knew where Draco was that it would mean the Death Eaters knew where you were." Her look was pitiable as she waited for Harry to sit back down. "But she's really taken this whole thing really badly. She's silent now, and I can't help but think she's plotting."

"My sister does NOT PLOT." The two jumped as Ron growled at them. "She's upset because she thinks Harry's snogging Draco while they're here all alone."

"And if they are?" Both the males looked at her, their heads snapping. "How is it any of your or her business?" The redhead looked astounded, the black haired boy's face only seemed to twitch undecided. "Obviously Harry doesn't want Ginny, or else he would have jumped right on the invitation to go alone with her to the Quidditch game."

"Wait, alone? I thought that Fred and George were going!" Harry said quickly, but over his voice he thought he heard a thump upstairs.

"See, Ron?" Hermione aimed at her redhead friend. "Ginny wasn't even honest with her intentions and he turned her down."

"Maybe it's because she wasn't blunt about it that he didn't get the hint." He looked at Harry expectantly and Harry caught a glimpse of blonde looking around the corner of the upstairs hall.

He couldn't help but smile. "Ron. She's a nice enough girl and really fun and great a Quidditch." He could feel daggers for eyes boring into him, and he smiled wider. "But really I'm not interested in her. Maybe it's because she's your sister-"

"Maybe it's because you're a poof."

"Harry never said he was a, I mean, that he was homosexual, nor did he say he was heterosexual. I didn't think you'd care."

"My mum was a redhead..."

"I've shared a room with him for years, I should know if he was eying me or the other boys."

Harry laughed. "Are you asking if I rubbed one off while thinking about you, Dean, Neville, or Seamus?" He laughed hard at that now. "No, no I've never thought of you guys that way."

"But you've thought about guys that way!"

"He didn't say that, and if it doesn't include you, doesn't it not matter anyways?"

"Why won't you let him answer?"

She didn't seem to have an answer for that, really, but her brown eyes flickered dangerously. "I just hope that someday you won't delve into people's business, especially in such a rude manner." She huffed slightly. "Anyways, I feel that unless one wants to sleep with a person, one has no right to inquire about their sexuality." A smile was soft and yet scary. "Are you coming out to us, Ronald?"

"Of course not. And don't ask if you don't want to sleep with the person, remember?" He looked horrified at being confronted, or insulted, Harry couldn't tell.

All that happened was Hermione smiling in mock pleasantry. For a moment, things were silent and overbearing, but it almost felt like it used to after Hermione and Ron would bicker and Harry would stay out of it as much as he could. "Well then, shall we be going, Ron? I'm sure you're hungry, how about I buy you something at a muggle restaurant?" And with that, they got up and left, Ron once again leaving in a bit of a rage and Hermione calm as could be. "Oh, and Harry." She said before she went, digging through your bag. "This is for you."

It was a book, big surprise there, but he thanked her all the same. Opening it, he found a letter that said the following

Dear Harry,  
Professor Snape told Professor Dumbledore. I know what has happened. So does Mrs. and Mr. Weasley as well as Professor Lupin. I'd like to say that I think you're doing the right thing. You don't seem to be upset about Draco Malfoy being your home at all, and that either shows a great amount of patience or a lot of changes in both of your perspectives. I'm proud of you, and Draco as well.  
I would like to convey, however, my deepest worries and regrets about Ginny. I don't think that she'll sit by idly and let you be, as she puts it, stolen away from her. Everyone is on your side, even Ginny, but fewer believe in Draco. This is only made worse by Ginny's jealousy. Please be careful and keep Draco safe as well.  
Sincerely,  
Hermione

Harry would be lying if he wasn't upset, angry at Ginny's attempts. The dark-haired boy felt a swell of protective instinct in his chest. However, he opened the book to find that it was just a new edition of Quidditch Through the Ages. Obviously the note had been the real reason, with a book cover so that Ron or anyone else would not notice. He turned around to find Draco standing not far away.

The blonde looked utterly exhausted, and Harry knew that to mean that Draco had probably been fretting a lot upstairs in response to every word, especially Ron's.

"Sorry for the interruption." He said, deftly putting the letter in the book. He'd bring it up later to the blonde but now was not the time. He sighed lightly. Draco was there but he seemed a bit spaced out. He stepped forward and waved his hand over Draco's face. "Hello?" He smiled, Draco wasn't responding. He was sure that Draco wasn't thinking anything nice, so he resorted to test something out.

He stood on his toes, suddenly aware of just how much shorter he was than Draco. He balanced himself with Draco's shoulders and leaned in to whisper into his new friend's ear. "Draco..."

Something seemed to switch on, the warm air reaching the blonde's ear was something he couldn't ignore. It sunk in what the brunette had said exactly, and immediately attacked the poor boy. Light pink lips met lower, tanner ones eagerly with desperation that Harry hadn't felt int he kisses before. It was strong kisses. They landed on the couch, Harry below a very possessive Draco. The kiss was heavy at first, but otherwise normal. A smirk graced the blonde's lips even as he pressed them against the other pair. "Say it again." It was a demand, one that Harry was happy to oblige.

"Draco." The voice was soft, deep voice in comparison to the Slytherin's. Barely a whisper as he tried to regain his breath. He was rewarded by lips pressing against him again, this time a tongue flicking against his lips. He opened them and Draco took his mouth. The feeling was thrilling, the taste was subtle and sweet, and they both could feel their hearts thud painfully in their chests. Harry was the first to move, wrapping his arms around Draco's graceful neck, deepening the kiss, running fingers across the very tips of Draco's hair. The pale boy responded by straddling the boy and running one hand across Harry's cheek, the other holding himself up.

They snogged like that, breaking away and rebeginning momentarily every once in awhile. However, eventually the kisses muted and they broke apart, instead content in simply staring at one another. How many personal rules had they broken? How many social boundaries? Just how complicated had they made their lives?

"What if Weasley had barged back in?"

"I guess he'd think I was a poof." Draco seemed to sit up, pulling away. Harry reviewed what he said and, pulling Draco by a resistant arm back down to him, he reoriented, remembering what Hermione had said about revealing sexuality. "I honestly don't know if poof is the right word, I haven't really thought about it, but I'd say I wasn't straight. Well, I wouldn't say it to Ron right now, it seemed to be the wrong answer at the time." Draco smiled.

"So you're gay?"

"I don't want anything more than what I have now." A thick thud pounded in Draco's chest. Those words were what he needed to hear on so many levels. It meant that Harry wasn't after sex, it meant that he indeed was doing this because he wanted to and not because Draco had started it, and that Harry was in fact interested in him enough not to want to push him away. He also that Harry didn't ask back.

Why was he always so grateful for all the things Harry didn't do? He wasn't even sure if they avoided intentionally or not. Either way, it made him feel accepted as he was. This way, he was able to maintain his 'answer to no one' attitude. His patience, his calm, all the things that Draco didn't possess, made it hard not to fall in love with Harry... Draco grimaced momentarily.

Love?


	14. Crashing Down

Harry didn't bring up anything he had learned until the next morning's breakfast, hesitant to damper what he could only assume was a newfound excitement and almost glee in the other boy. It was so weird to see Draco so easily happy. Actually, to see him happy at all. It felt wrong to try to ruin it. So the next morning and when Draco seemed fairly normal again, which Harry had to admit made him relieved, that he was able to so.

"As I'm sure you heard, your parents are looking for you." Draco dropped his spoon into his porridge, looking stricken. He did know that, of course, but he had banished it from his mind. "So it was that Dumbledore, who I assume was told by Snape, had to tell a few people - Hermione, Lupin, and Ron's parents - what happened." Green eyes raked over Draco delicately. The boy looked so upset. Was it fear? Humiliation? Harry decided to continue. "Ginny only doesn't tell where you live now because that means risking my life, which she'd also consider... losing... me..." It felt so odd to talk in a way that made himself out to look like some weird prize, especially with Draco looking at him like that. Why did Draco look so panicked, while he had to pretend to be calm? "But... she's very strong willed... So..." He left it open.

Draco was shaking, and Harry got up and moved closer to the boy, before something he wasn't expecting - though perhaps he should have been - happened. "I'll kill her!" The blonde was now standing up, leaning on and glaring at the table. "Damn hormonal weasel!"

"Hey..." Harry said, reaching out, he was shocked when his hand was slapped away. He just stood there, gazing at the boy, quite unaware if his own expression was showing his personal hurt or the pity he felt for Draco. "You know, everyone will protect you."

Silver eyes shot towards him. "No one will protect me, I'm 'Malfoy'." The green sunk in, those viridian eyes looked so sad that his anger almost washed away. Draco could feel himself melting under them, the pressure breaking him.

"And I'm Harry Potter." Harry didn't try to reach out this time, only looking at the boy. "Everyone knows that if you get caught while under my watch, I'll go after you." A sad smile crossed his face and his eyes looked slightly away. "And I think we both know that no matter if you stay here or not, if you get caught I'll go after you." He sighed.

Draco, back to his old ways somehow, wanted to spit. He didn't want to be saved - again - by the Golden Boy. That boy needed to stop being such a goody goody, needed to stop trying to save everyone. It only made it hurt more when he lost people. And Harry had certainly lost people. Silver gazed back at the shorter man, now only sad. Harry, too, looked pitiful and depressed.

It would be a lie if Draco said that no part of him wanted to comfort the other boy, to apologize. In fact, it almost hurt not to do so, but he was too angry; at Ginny Weasley, at his father, at the people that knew his situation, at himself. He however, for the first time in his life, could not think of any reason to be even irrationally angry at the man who stood with him.

That did not stop him.

"I don't need you to save me, Potter. I don't want to owe you any more than I already do." He sneered, mostly at himself. Why was he so incapable of telling the truth? Which was, quite simply, that his life or purity - if he had any left - wasn't worth Harry risking his own. He wanted to throw up, unused to both the raw emotion andstressed by the situation. He was lost in his thinking until the Boy Who Lived muttered something that barely caught his attention.

"That wouldn't stop me." Murcury met jade in a steady glare from both ends. "Even if you had a wand," which you do not, "even if I thought you could take on all the Death Eaters," which you couldn't possibly, "even if you could face your father," which no one could after what you've been through, "I wouldn't make you do it alone." I'm here for you.

Draco wondered why Harry had to be so damned honest, especially with his eyes. The brunette's words were sharp enough without being able to so clearly read between the lines, thank you very much. He could only hopelessly glare at the boy, the expression more habit then honesty.

And he felt so broken as he could feel his cold veneer crack, his shiny perfect gloss chip away. Something he had only used as manipulation, usually against the man before him in some way or another, came raging to the surface. That was his own self pity. Sinking into his chair, grabbing at his own hair, his emotional rollercoaster finally began. Certainly he had been emotional before, doing things he would never have before, but now everything came pouring down on him like a stream held by a dam for too long.

He had been raped. One of the rapists was his very own father. That very same father was looking for him. A spiteful woman wanted to hand him back to those hands that had so cruelly stolen from him what should have been cherished. This was all only made worse by his own and unclear relationship with his former enemy, or at least more confusing anyways. Even more was the fact that that man he had just possibly pushed away. Everything laid out before him, shattered, and he had no life experience in any of these situations to even start gluing anything back together.

Draco realized now just what Harry had distracted him from the night before. There was no stopping it now, however, as everything washed over him. He didn't think Harry could pull himself out of this one as he delved more into a self-centered mentality in a way even his Slytherin ego couldn't have imagined. There were no tears, no sounds; only pain and despair. Harry didn't even cross his mind, but if he had looked at the boy he would have seen those green eyes staring at him, a hand out hopelessly, confusion and sadness crossed across his own face.

For once in his life, Harry could see someone who had just as much inner turmoil as he did, as much reason to give up. If anything, maybe Draco's was worse. Afterall, Harry had lived his entire life in horrible conditions, Draco at least knew what it was like to have a good life, even if it made him cocky, and now almost instantaneously that had all be stolen from him and worse. Harry had never had parents, Draco's had betrayed him. How could he compare? Perhaps the worlds most evil wizard was not after Draco personally, but the next best thing was. And if Lucius Malfoy did catch up with him, he wasn't sure if more rape or death would be the fate of Draco, possibly both. Harry shuddered.

Draco would know all of this, so Harry felt he should watch the boy. Quite simply, the blonde would never trust him, and therefore couldn't be trusted with himself. He found himself kneeling beside the boy, fallen to the ground in frustration and distress. He wished he could apologize to Draco, to help him, to comfort him, and most of all to tell him everything was going to be alright. But quite honestly, what did Harry know about these things? People had made Harry feel better in his life, but had anyone ever really comforted him? Made him feel safe? The only person that he could think of was Molly Weasley and it was with a heavy heart and an unsure feeling that he left the room find Hedwig.

Harry could do a lot of things, but he couldn't do this. Not alone, and not with someone so precious as a test subject.

-

A/N: Short chapter but that felt like the most appropriate place to end for the moment. Not to worry, next chapter will be up just as fast as I can type it. 


	15. Rollercoaster

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I lost the file half way through (liked the first draft better, to be honest) and it took me awhile to get back in the rhythm of things... A little more drama, a little less danger in this chapter. More crazy shit to come.

--

Molly had only wrote him to stay at Draco's side. Harry, despite his enjoyment for doing things the 'muggle-way' while in his own home, had instead incorporated magic and Kreacher, who he had told to work at Hogwarts while Draco was here, to get things done around the house. He wasn't sure that the blonde even realized he was there, in fact he was sure of it. He made sure the boy ate well, but was stricken at just how serious this was when Draco didn't bother to the next morning after they had laid in the bed together - Draco sleeping only a little and fitfully, Harry not sleeping at all.

Harry was pretty sure it didn't have to hurt so much to watch someone be blank like this. Certainly Draco was suffering, quiet and rolled up into himself throughout the night, not even touching Harry. It would be a lie if he wasn't upset about that. It was selfish, he knew it, but Harry wished that Draco would touch him again and talk to him and pick on him. Hell, right now he'd even take a few swings towards his constantly repaired glasses. Silence thudded painfully in his ears as he watched the boy desperately, making him eat, but he didn't bother trying to change his clothes or showering him. One, it would be awkward and two, he didn't really mind if Draco was the way he would be if he let things be a little more natural. He considered how many of his daily rituals had been ingrained into him, like the pride of the bloodline. The same way a showdog can't just have good breeding, but should be trained to sit on command. Harry frowned at these types of thoughts, half at his reaction to everything over the time the two had known each other. Sometimes it seemed that Draco's eyes would become clearer until he noticed Harry and then they would fog back over a bit. While the brunette would love to believe that he was hoping Harry was there and glad to see he hadn't left and felt secure, he had a feeling that Draco was seeing if his former rival was not there so he could do something that Harry didn't even want to think about.

He lasted another day of this, two days in total, before Molly actually showed up. After all, she had her family to take care of and the order and being poor but making do was no easy chore. However, she did come because, as Harry knew, she was a dependable woman. Someone who, despite his dislike for asking help on anything, would help him without question and thoroughly for his happiness. He was grateful that she had just let herself in, while he had always been upset at Ron's barging, because they were both sitting in Draco's room. Draco was at the desk, looking out the window at muggles but not really seeing them, while Harry was sitting on the bed watching Draco. She came in and smiled at Harry but didn't speak before she walked over to where Draco was sitting. She pulled herself a seat and looked at the boy momentarily before putting her hand on his.

Draco jumped, obviously not expecting the touch but probably imagining the wrong things to be touched. He was about to scream at Molly before he realized it wasn't Harry he was looking at. Instead, Harry watched as he took in the plump redhead woman with confusion. She only smiled at him lightly. For some reason, Harry expected Draco to suddenly to be bawling in her arms. Maybe it's because that's what he would do, or maybe it's because Draco had become so fragile towards him and outwardly emotional. This, however, did not happen. Instead, the blonde stared at Ron's mother unblinkingly for the longest time. Minutes passed before Molly spoke very kindly and gently, but not in any way that was actually different from her normal self. "Did you know? Harry's been watching you nonstop for two days now. He's a very sweet boy, but I've never known him to be that diligent about anything before."

Why was it that Harry heard a hint of 'especially his homework' or 'keeping to the rules' behind that? Must be his own guilt... He blushed, both at the accusations and the reminder of just how deep he was getting in here. Ignoring him, or perhaps not even noticing, she continued. "My daughter Ginny was saved by Harry, you know, from the Chamber of Secrets." Malfoy suddenly glared, not exactly at Mrs. Weasley, but at the indication of Ginny. "And yet, afterward, her and Harry resorted how they were beforehand. Nothing changed. But I have a feeling, Draco, that whatever new respect you have for one another will change your outlook on each other no matter what."

The both looked at each Harry, Draco staring almost blankly but something lurking underneath the surface. Mrs. Weasley then reached over and gave the boy a hug, which he tensed up slightly to at first and then seemed to relax quite a bit, even though he did not look away from Harry. Harry looked back, quite confused. She then stood up, patted him on the head lightly, nodded lovingly towards Harry, and showed herself out.

They stared at each other for many long moments, Harry sitting on the bed against the headboard and Draco still sitting in his chair. Draco stood up hesitantly and began to walk over, his body shaking slightly. He sat next to the boy and looked down. The brunette was about to say something, anything, but before he could, Draco practically tackled him. So hard that he hit his head on the headboard and yelped, in fact. "I'm so sorry, Potter..." The boy let out meekly and Harry was about to respond when he felt the boy break down into sobs. He noted how strange it sounded to hear his surname in such a desperate apology to himself. "I'm, so, sorry."

"Shh..." Harry said, finally recovering from the blow, he wound his arms around Draco tightly and cradled the boy that was weeping on his shoulder. He let a few moments pass before wiping disheveled hair out of the boy's eyes tenderly. "Draco..." He could feel the boy shudder at the name. It was so hard to speak, his lungs constricted. Why did it hurt so much to watch the boy cry? Why was he now himself streaming tears from his viridian eyes? His head landed lightly on the blonde hair, his own sobs matching with Draco's. It was now that Draco looked up at him with wavering grey eyes.

The blonde hadn't noticed that Harry had been crying until now, too wrapped up himself most likely, and now that he saw he was his heart dropped. Harry freaking Potter wasn't supposed to cry ever for any reason no matter what. Draco had never been able to break the boy before, and he had been actively trying, but now that he got it he didn't want it. As he moved away, scared of what laid before him, green eyes looked up at him pleadingly and confused. Draco couldn't handle it, it hurt too much. Mind racing, he did the first thing he could think about to make Harry stop crying him.

He kissed the boy.

It was forceful, and Harry hit his head again. It was desperate but not needy and both their hearts seemed heavy, as if they were weighed down, as if they were connected to each other. What was really strange, however, was that the tears from both of them only increased then, even as Draco licked Harry's lips and the darker boy obliged. It was Draco that entangled their fingers together on both hands as their tears merged at their chins. In that moment, it was beautiful. Their life story laid out in one moment; so sad, so desperate, needing love and being denied it all these years. In that instant they felt so absolutely complete and free to be their repressed selves. The pressed against eachother, Draco all but melting into Harry.

Harry couldn't help compare Draco and Cho this entire time, but now that they were kissing while crying it was so much more prevalent. Everything was so unbelievably different, like the fact that Draco didn't catch him off guard about his tears. Also, in that moment he knew that they were only thinking about each other, not the pressure put onto their lives. Cho's tears had been selfish, theirs were for the boy they were kissing. Cho's crying had torn him and her apart, Draco's was bringing them together. Of course, Cho had every reason to cry, but never more than Harry - Draco was at least on level ground with him, if not in a worse state. Their hearts both fluttered enthusiastically as they simultaneously let go of the other's hands and wrapped arms around one another, Draco's around Harry's neck and Harry's around Draco's waist.

Eventually their tears ended and their kisses became more heated. less graceful. Draco ran his hands through Harry's messy hair while Harry placed his hands on the blonde's slim hips. It was during the movement of them both trying to all but devour one another that Harry's hand quite accidentally went up Draco's shirt, touching his side ever so slightly with rough hands. Harry knew exactly what happened as Draco immediately froze, and Harry pulled away, his hands now firmly on the bed. Draco was now looking away from him, embarrassed at himself. "Sorry..." The pale boy muttered, obviously ashamed of himself.

Draco indeed was ashamed. He knew better than to think of them when Harry touched him, or he should. The Slytherin trusted Harry, really he did, as much as he didn't want to admit it. It was just that in that moment, that single caress, everything had flooded back to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to curse himself right now. How was he and Harry supposed to carry on and further things between them this way? Then he grimaced a bit, wondering when his subconscious had decided he even wanted to go further with the black haired boy. It was impossible for those grey eyes to travel back to the deep green ones, too afraid of what he might see there.

However, he had no choice when fingers laced with his again, he had to see what the other boy was doing. Smiling, that's what he was doing, smiling gently like it didn't matter at all to him that Draco was tarnished and unable to cope with being touched so intimately, even if it really wasn't. A long moment passed before Harry spoke hesitantly. "I... Don't ever apologize for anything. It's not you. It feels wrong." Draco blushed, quite aware due to Harry's own embarrassment more than anything, that this was supposed to be saying that he liked Draco just the way he was - cocky and uncaring of other people's opinions. He studied a very awkward black haired boy for a moment before smiling.

Harry was taken aback as he watched those pretty lips curl into an expression he had never seen before. Draco was smiling; genuinely, happily, sweetly. All he could do was stare, entranced, utterly amazed and bewildered and unable to deny just how beautiful Draco was. Of course, he knew that already, and he was sure Draco did too, but with a smile and having let himself go over the past two days and not as prim and proper as he was. Draco was impossibly beautiful, graceful - even if extremely bipolar once broken out of his usual sneer, which would never have happened if he hadn't been raped. Harry would never see him like this if it wasn't for those horrible acts. He almsot frowned if he wasn't frozen by the wonder that was still sitting atop of him.

It really didn't help that Draco was looking at him so joyously. It made him look positively delicious, and Harry very well couldn't attack him now because the boundary had already been set. Instead he pulled the boy close to him, the boy's smile never leaving as he himself adjusted so that he was laying sideways, arm across Harry's chest and head on his shoulder. He really was just glad that Draco didn't freak out at his touch or wasn't crying or wasn't going blank anymore. He wrapped his arm around Draco's back and laid his hand over his waist, sure to not touch skin.

They both were contemplating what exactly what was going on here. Obviously they each cared quite unnaturally for the other boy. They both knew things were getting out of control; so much so that Draco couldn't imagine himself being on his own now. Who would make him eat, who would break him out of his reverie, who would hold him during the night and make sure he didn't nightmares? He couldn't have imagined doing this with anyone, and of course least of all Harry, but now he now knew that he couldn't do it with anyone else. It would feel weird, and it wouldn't be as unbelievably special to him. The Slytherin hated how sentimental he was getting, and as such he promised himself to only let there be one person he let it be for, the one person that had ever seen it. No, Potter was the only one. He tried not to think of the implications of that. Of course, he was not alone in needing Harry. Now a girl was even more jealous than he had been the day he caused the issue in the first place. He sighed, surprisingly contentedly, into Harry's shoulder.

Harry was on the other spectrum of things. He just let his feelings come as they were and really had nothing to hide from himself, though he found himself constantly surprised. Instead, he just had to analyze how protective he was becoming over Draco, physically and emotionally. Draco had done a fairly pleasing job protecting himself from Harry's friends thus far, but he wasn't sure that the Slytherin could do that anymore - or that he should of had to in the first place. Ginny... Ginny had tried a lot of things to get his attention before, he knew, but now they were all more blatantly obvious. In fact, she was no downright dangerous.

So basically, if he wanted to ensure Draco's health, which he most definitely did, he couldn't trust his friends. Not even Ron, he thought as he frowned, who would side with Ginny at least right now. Hermione could be trusted, of course, in fact Hermione could always be trusted. That uplifted him a bit except for the part that she wouldn't aim a spell at Ron or Ginny if they came for him. Same went for Mrs. Weasley. He didn't know about the adults in general, actually. They'd probably disagree with what was going on between the two of them, whatever it was, anyways.

They both laid there; holding one another, thinking about each other, both fully aware that things will get worse from here, obvious by the feeling within them, but that at least for now they could rely on the person in their arms.


	16. Don't Remind Me

They really hadn't realized they had fallen asleep. It was just so comfortable, and safe, and a great way to forget everything. Not to mention that it was pretty much the foundation for everything between them. If only Harry hadn't been so comfortable, so able to wipe away his nightmares, then none of it would have ended up the way it is. Anyways, the were tired from Draco only sleeping lightly and Harry not sleeping at all, so really there was nothing that could be done about it.

They were lucky that Ginny did not just walk in, as she did show up at Harry's door during that day but decided that no matter how angry she was that barging in would only make her look bad to Harry. Instead, they were intruded by a very grumpy Severus Snape. The professor had to stand before them for five minutes, scanning the situation and bantering between absolute disgust and relief that Draco didn't look to be in that bad of shape, even if he wasn't as prim as usual. When he was finally able to regain his composure, which had seriously been out of whack upon seeing the two enemies sprawled out, he cleared his throat.

"How touching." Honestly, it was all he could manage.

Draco roused first, moaning upsettedly and rubbing his eyes before opening one eye his way. Those grey orbs blinked twice before taking what he was seeing as reality, to which he backed away so far that he actually fell off the bed and screamed; partly from being caught off guard, partly from falling off the bed, and partly because the last time he had seen Severus Snape, he was naked, bleeding, covered in men's sex, and on the brink of being killed.

Sorry, but even though Snape knew this place, it didn't mean he trusted them.

Of course, the scream had woken Harry, wand in hand, which immediately aimed at the one thing that was out of place. The older man sneered visibly, trying to ignore a very flustered and scared Draco. Harry was not so able to forgo helping Draco. Immediately he rolled out of the bed and clambered to the Slytherin's side. Tears seemed to sink into his soul. "It's okay, it's alright. Snape won't hurt you. He lead you here, remember?"

But Severus Snape knew that it wasn't just lack of trust. No, the death eater was just a reminder of everything that had happened that night because he had been there. He could have done the kindest thing on this earth for Draco, which he rather thought he did, but it didn't matter because he was a solid remainder of what had happened. He made a noncommittal grunt and left, black robes billowing behind him.

It took Harry a better part of two hours to calm Draco down. He sighed at the bad timing and wondered exactly why the man had been here anyways. At first, Malfoy had refused to touch him or be touched, something that Harry did not press but eventually Draco ended up clinging to him desperately. Shaking and crying and so utterly pathetic that it put everything before to shame with it's heart-wrenching sadness. He was rocking him in his arms when the crying finally ceased. Harry could not help feel extremely flustered when he didn't know what to do, and extremely proud whenever he struck gold on what he assumed to be the right way to do things - after all, it's not like he had neither experience in this sort of thing or anyone to actually comfort him he could learn from.

For the next three hours they just sat there against the wall, embracing sadly like a couple of kids that had just witnessed something horrible and had nobody to turn to. Scary how pretty close that was, except they had always been victims not just witnesses. How traumatized did fate want them to be, exactly? Harry held Draco tight and Draco didn't loosen his grip until Kreacher brought them food. Draco may have been surprised to see the creature for the first time but he didn't show it. Instead, as the food was left out in front of them, he realized that Harry might let him go now, so he held on tighter.

It took great personal strength to be firm with the boy. "You have to eat." He pulled the food closer and Draco burrowed his head into the crook of Harry's neck. The brunette sighed and cut some quiche with his fork and lifted it to head level then looked at the hiding boy sadly. Growling slightly, he tried again. "Draco..." He warned. The blonde seemed to move uncomfortably at hearing his given name used in such a manner, which gave him another idea. Grinning in quite the Slytherin fashion, Harry bent down to the actual Slytherin's ear. "Dra~co..." He said in a husky voice, almost a moan.

That seemed to get his attention, as the boy quickly gasped and threw his head up to look at the man holding him incredulously, mouth open indignantly. Harry only smiled back lightly. "Please?" The caring in his eyes was too much for the blonde, the sheer fact that the Harry Potter was asking him in such a way, he couldn't take it. Sighing with irritation the boy nodded. Soon he was surprised that instead of giving the boy the fork, Harry actually put the utensil to his reluctant lips. Despite everything that had changed so far, this really was too much. Draco ate the first bite and as Harry was taking the fork back he grabbed it.

He may have been wrong about his family pride and his Slytherin ethics before but curse him dead if he was going to participate in romantic mushy details like this. His blush simply would not recede from his pale features, beyond embarrassment. Harry smiled deeply at him as he finally dug into the food himself, only moving so that his back was burrowing into the man instead of clinging to him. Draco's annoyance grew as he could feel the smile behind him, making him have a passing thought of stabbing Harry with his fork. He smirked at that, the idea that no matter how close the two of them got some things never changed. Damned Gryffindor anyways. However, when he thought about it, hadn't Harry just humiliated him to the point where he complied. That was actually very Slytherin. He hummed in thought to that.

And there was Snape to think about. He flinched slightly at the thought but it was nothing in comparison to him actually standing above him. Draco wasn't really sure if he had been embarrassed to be seen laying with Harry or not by his former favorite professor. The thought should have completely been moot, but it was slightly prevalent. That meant that everyone might know soon, including Ginny. Plus he wasn't sure if he trusted Snape or not. Point in fact is that Snape saved him, lead him here, gave him a chance at happiness, even if it wasn't exactly his intentions. And they hadn't come after him, so that meant that he could be trusted, right? Even so, Snape was a walking memory of everything that had happened. Seeing him, looming there, had just brought everything to the surface.

Yes, he was thankful to Severus Snape but he never wanted to see him ever again.

He took another bite, staring ahead. He wondered if he'd ever be free again; with the wizarding world looking for him, a jealous woman out to get him, and people that if he saw he'd surely go nutters again. Though he was very aware that he couldn't stay here forever, or even if he could live for the rest of his days that he couldn't hermit himself like this always. It made him crave fresh air, flying, stores, people. He was generally a very private and reserved person but nonetheless being around people was always good - if only to look at them like they were scum to make himself look better.

What was he going to do?

It shouldn't have, but he felt the great need to make some sort of decision now, to have some control over the future before it comes rampaging towards him. Should he somehow strike first in true Slytherin fashion, or should he forgo all things Slytherin since everything so far has been a farce? A Slytherin would attack first without lenience nor apology, what would the other houses do? A Hufflepuff would try to talk things over, a Ravenclaw would perhaps try to find whatever was most logical which would be to calculate everything until the last moment and act only on sure figures. A Gryffindor, what would a Gryffindor do?

It depended on why, he supposed, but it would always come down to emotion. So what were his emotions? Confused came to mind before everything else, not because it was the most extreme but because it crossed the barriers of all his problems. He was outraged at his father, and scared of him and all the death eaters. Also devastated by having everything he knew crushed under their toes. About Ginny, he was actually more annoyed than anything except that she put him in danger towards the people who had been mentioned before. Harry, well, actually that didn't really want to think about his emotions concerning that kid right now.

Another bite. If only he could keep the rape out of the forefront out of his head., and really he had thought he was doing a good job at it until something absolutely reminded him of it, until it was out of his control. He had to do something to take that power away from those reminders. And in that, it became blatantly obvious what he had to do, so much so that it made him want to cry again. He was sure he would, anyways.

"Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to talk about the night before you found me here. The night I was... raped..."

--

Small chapter again, next chapter will be even smaller I assume but I can't possibly know how many words it will take, but it will basically just be what happened that night. Chapter after that will be exciting again. 


	17. Thoughts and Memories

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry this took so long. There is so much going on right now it's not even funny.

First I wrote this like three times, each of which I forgot to continue in first person. I'd like to say that this is not verbatum what he told Harry, obviously, he actually had told him pretty much what the first chapter is. This is just a necessary insight to the situations.

Second of all, I have been getting ready for Christmas, as should be obvious. I'm still behind.

Third of all, I got a new puppy! His name is Walter Stanly Mellin (Walter Mellin, think about it...) and he is a black and white boxer/pitbull mix. He's 8 weeks old and I just picked him up today (which will no longer be today by the time I upload this as I am out of town). He is currently sleeping in my hoodie on my lap and I look like a really bumpy pregnant person. I have been getting my house puppy proofed and such.

Lastly, I think, is my father is coming to town. His plane should be touching down any minute. This will be the first time I have seen him since April 2005 - so one fourth of my life now.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Next one... when I get around to it, as whenever I promise to update soon life happens. So here's something to tide you over for now.

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This summer was like any other summer since I had started at Hogwarts. Most of the time I spent cooped up in my room, the rest of the time flying around the property, but flying didn't seem to hold it's shine with me anymore. Practice was no longer an ego boost for me, it had become slavework in order to attempt to catch up to the continuously famed Harry Potter. It was no question that I was spiteful about everything concerning the golden boy but this summer was particularly bad. The Gryffindor trio had managed to have the last laugh right before the break. It was something dumb, just they had saw me twirl away only to bump into another student. I then had proceeded to push the person out of my way and call them something demeaning - honestly I didn't even remember what - and there was no doubt that the trio had forgotten what had happened by now. But I hadn't, and it only mattered that I had not just one more time degrading my arch rival before we went their seperate ways.

I really did hate all three of them, Hermione 'Mudblood' Granger, Ronald 'Weasel' Weasley, and Harry 'Scarhead' Potter. Especially Potter, because it had been so damned obvious how easy the other boy had it. Fortune, friends, and most of all fame. The Malfoys have fortune, but the rest of those three points were lost to us. Friends were to be stepped on and would step on you, and therefore were not friends in the usual actual sense of the word. Of course, the Malfoys are respected, known, they had prestige, and that was something to be proud of - and I am, of course - but the only fame the Malfoy family has ever tasted was infamy. Perhaps I am jealous of Harry Potter, though I'd never say it aloud, because Potter didn't have parents to press you as hard as I did, though Potter didn't seem to appreciate that. I, Draco, was spiteful of Harry Potter, because I'd offered his friendship twice, once without knowing who he was and once after finding out he was the legendary boy, and hadn't gotten an answer the first time and when I did get the answer, Harry didn't only reject me but had insulted me as well. These were secrets, of course. No one knows my inner workings, no one has that priviledge, because anyone would use it against me. Especially Slytherins, which are the only people who don't completely hate me.

I want to clarify that my father has never beat me. He's hit me, certainly, and punished me in cruel and unusual ways. That isn't beating. My father never lost control of himself, not once in my life. The pain I felt from lashings or being slapped were momentarily. As a snake, he struck down on me and then was done. The reasoning isn't because my father stops himself, he wouldn't if he had ever beat me to a pulp and cut me enough to cause me serious injury, it's because I simply wasn't worth any more than that sliver of time and energy.

In some backwards logic, he didn't beat me because he didn't love me.

Not that I particularly needed his love, I didn't need anyone. Okay, I did, I needed a reason to live and my parents provided that. Uphold the family pride, Draco, become just like your father. And so I worshipped my father, even as he scorned me because I was only second in class. This was particularly horrid because the first on the percentile was a mudblood. So my scorn for that girl that had resembled a lanky squirrel had justification, even if it was a tad bit late. Ron Weasley he could geniunely dislike just off of personality, or lack there of. It was his hotheaded demeanor, his complete lack of wit, or any form of intelligence it seemed sometimes, that made Draco think he was absolutely ridiculous - on top of his less than pride priviledged family history and lack of money. There's actually not a redeeming factor for the gingerheaded dolt in my eyes.

And maybe that makes me all the more angry that Potter chose Weasley's friendship over mine.

It had already struck me before that my disdain for the three, well for Potter, was to a certain point in which it probably wasn't entirely healthy. Perhaps I focused on him too much, or on subjects that would in their entirety end up having to do with him. But everything had to do with him in Hogwarts. So I grew to dislike Hogwarts. From being excited about Slytherin, to thinking the place had gone to the dogs, to eventually not wanting to go at all and considering Durmstrang. I tell myself I just hate placing second, it's a challenge. That's why I stay. Too bad I only had one more school year to prove myself.

I was considering all these melodramatic things, afterall I'm a melodramatic type of guy who had no one else to press them upon, while laying on my bed and staring pointedly at the ceiling. I do this a lot, idly contemplating. There had also been plots somewhere in his thoughts but they were the subconscious type that you only remember later when they'd be useful. Well, that's how my mind seemed to work anyways. My mind never seemed to jumble, very one track, and that was good, it was how I remained looking calm, cool, and collected. It also upholds my pristene grades, along with my hardened will to defeat Granger.

So I had probably been laying there for a couple hours. I wasn't really lazy, just unmotiviated. My parents didn't include me in their social lives, other than being sent off with the other rich children to entertain each other because children are to be seen and not heard. I knew where my father went, work and Death Eater gatherings. My mother shopped, but never would take me, which I considered strange since I had an eye for fashion, until I realized that Father considered my talent in such things quite a queer habit, in the homosexual definition of the word, and heirs quite simply could not turn out gay or else. That makes sense I suppose. Therefore it was no surprise that I spent many hours alone at home, well alone meaning the only Malfoy, we had servants and a couple house elves left after Potter had so rudely taking away Dobby, damn him and his meddling anyways. It was, however, a surprise when my father sent for me later that evening after dinner and some more thoughts. I hadn't done anything wrong since I had last gotten a good talking to and I very much doubted Father had decided to suddenly praise me for all the effort I had put in for the last six years, if not my entire life.

I knocked and entered, as was normal. My father would not awknowledge me until I was sitting on the other side of his father's desk. Staring at his back as he examined his bookshelves, I rested my eyes on that black ribbon my father sometimes tied his hair back with. He didn't have to look at me to begin talking, he rarely did. "My partners have decided you may be useful to us. Since you've been disappointment after disappointment for awhile now," I couldn't help but huff indignantly. A little respect would be nice. "I could hardly refuse them. And I cant help but agree with them that it just may be the only use you may be to us."

It was on the tip of my tongue, that I had twice the smarts of most of the Death Eaters. Then I remembered that that was what made them so useful, they were disposable and would follow orders unquestioningly. I had a mind of my own, and therefor would be dangerous, especially since my father's ever present eye could portray the cowardice I have or the fact that I worshipped my father and not Voldemort. The Dark Lord should be respected, to be sure, but he was not my master.

I was sick. I am sick. Call me brainwashed.

And though I felt affronted, I was also excited. This is what I had always wanted, well, told that I wanted. Sure, obviously I would not be in the same position as my father and most likely would be something incredibaly lame but everyone had to start somewhere.

It didn't occur to me that my father didn't look at me once in that brief meeting we had, going over the plans for me to go with him that night. I was to leave my want behind, as this was an initiation of sorts and it would be improper for me to bring my wand. It was more of a tradition to prove loyalty and not spyhood, but it had to be followed by everyone. That made sense, I supposed. I hated it, of course, the idea of being defenseless, but it's just what I had to do, or Merlin knew what would happen to me. I wish now that I had followed instinct. I apparatted with him into a forest blindfolded 'for security reasons'. And it happened.

And the story unfolded.

What I didn't know, how could I? Is that this had been in process since before the Death Eaters reformed. My father had the burden of having a pretty son. Quite frankly, successful families breed, they don't have passion, and sex is much better when forced. Remember the type of people my father surrounds himself with. They call themselves refined but they're weird folk, and they thirst for power. Rape is a wonderful outlet for that, and the more taboo the better. I just happened to be next, after the bids for my body had turned to a point in which even my parents could not refuse. Malfoys love power, and here the powerful were giving it to them. And my parents aren't all that old, really. It wouldn't be ideal, of course, but they could have another child as an heir.

My father traded me off for favors, money, and power. I am officially a whore, and my own father was my pimp. A pimp who decided to partake because he might as well, it would be the last time he'd see his beautiful son whom had looked so much like him, who was narcassistic, and Narcissa, who was a very beautiful woman. I wonder just how much my mother knew, but then I remember that she wouldn't care much so I don't care much what she thinks.

I think I understand why Harry doesn't appreciate having no parents as opposed to horrible parents, maybe it's because all we both ever really wanted was the best, not just the better. We both just were two lonely boys that needed a little love, affection, attention that wasn't the consequence of our circumstance.

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A/N: I feel I went a little out of character. I'm sorry. The thoughts seem right, the tone doesn't. Just do what I do and analyze and rewrite each line in your head. Seriously, I do, it's fucked up. 


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